


When We're Both Thirty

by Helena_Hathaway



Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Blind Date, Childhood Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Friends to Enemies, Funny, Humor, I don't actually know how to tag this one, M/M, More like Friends to Enemies to Acquaintances to Lovers, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, They're all the same ages so what sue me?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 84,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2757812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helena_Hathaway/pseuds/Helena_Hathaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank and Gerard were childhood friends. And then they were enemies. Finally, they became strangers. They’d been friends though, and maybe they’d been a little too affectionate, because everyone thought the two of them would get married someday. Before they became enemies, they had even agreed to use each other as a backup plan. If, by the time they both reached their thirtieth year, they hadn’t found someone to marry, they’d marry each other. </p><p>They have thirty three days left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tale of how fifth graders are scary when you're a small, possibly gay, first grader.

When Gerard was about five years old, and the years prior, he and Frank had actually been really good friends. They played together in the park, and ran around each other’s houses, picking on the neighborhood kids, even though they were both a lot smaller than everyone else in the neighborhood. They used to help each other dot their i’s and slash their t’s in kindergarten. 

Their houses were right next to each other’s, so obviously they had a lot of contact with each other. Frank’s mom used to drop him off at Gerard’s house when she had errands to run, and vice versa. They just always got along. Honestly, everyone who’d ever seen the two would’ve sworn that they’d be friends through their childhood at least, and maybe on into adolescence.

Back then, they were both blank slates, didn’t know very much about the world. They just sort of accepted anything they heard as the truth. One of the older boys in the neighborhood once told Frank that you could grow scotch tape if you shook the dispenser. He was little enough to believe that lie. So Frank pulled out all the tape, wrapping it around his fingers, and then he shook the tape dispenser and waited. He watched, and for about five minutes it was like watching grass grow. Five minutes to the five year old Frank felt like an hour, so he decided that it’d just take some time. The tape never grew back unfortunately. Gerard had had to unwind him from all the tape. 

So when someone asked Frank and Gerard if they liked each other they said yes. Because why couldn’t a boy like another boy? It’s not that anyone tried to pull them apart or anything, because they thought it was cute. It probably _was_ cute.

The thing was that they spent almost every day with each other. One day they signed a contract that they would even get married. Obviously they didn’t take it seriously at the time, they just thought it was something goofy. Though, they did get that contract typed which made it all feel so official. They even signed and stamped it. The only stamp they could find was a red Santa like stamp in the bottom of Gerard’s toy box, riding, what everyone direly hoped was meant to be a reindeer.

As they’d had Gerard’s mother type it up, she appointed the clause near the bottom that the contract would be binding if neither of them had found a mate by the frightfully far-off age of thirty. That gave them both twenty five years.

It was a joke of course, but that contract was laminated, and that made it infinitely more official. It was funny though, because they were best friends, and at only five years old, had agreed to marry each other as a last resort. For a year, people would tease them, most lightheartedly, until they got to the evil place.

‘The evil place’ is what Gerard later dubbed their elementary school. They started first grade, hoping that everything would be the same as it was back in kindergarten. People laughing along with their friendship that was maybe a little stranger than everyone else’s. That’s what they’d expected, because they hadn’t really seen enough of the world to expect anything different. Little kids are like sponges, they just accept whatever you tell them, and most things brush off them pretty quickly.

Except first grade was not like kindergarten. Compared to first grade, kindergarten was a walk in the park. Literally. On Mondays they used to walk in the park next to the school littered with cottontails that Frank used to joke looked like burnt hot dogs. First grade was not like that though. It was scary.

See, their elementary school started at first grade and went through fifth grade, and fifth graders were _huge_. Frank was sure they were some type of monster that had escaped from his picture books. They were ancient, and giant. They were just so big compared to him though, and they were mean.

Fifth graders got the esteemed privilege to acquaint first graders with the new school. So every Wednesday and Friday the fifth graders would visit Frank and Gerard’s classroom. It was basically midget hunting season. The fifth graders were allowed to pick on the little kids, because the teachers were taking ‘break time’ which was actually just gossip hour. The fifth graders were supposedly responsible though. They were, after all, hundreds of years older than the first graders, so they were totally worthy of babysitting the little kids for an hour.

Wrong.

It was The Hunger Games with six year olds. The eleven year olds versus the six year olds, and one team had a definite competitive edge with the fact that they were thirty feet taller. Fifth graders were so mean. The boys would pick on each other, so the big guys would pick on the little guys, meaning that Frank and Gerard were well accustomed to the game of tag. Sometimes though, they’d be able to escape by infiltrating the sanctuary the girls seemed to build.

Except fifth grade girls were, if it’s possible, meaner than the boys. They would pick on you with words. It was like a sparring session except the first graders were too small and young to understand that every word out of their mouths was a lie. That was where Gerard first heard the ‘s’ word. Stupid. Then Frank later told him while they were at his house playing Go Fish that the ‘s’ word is actually shit. Frank’s mom heard him say that and he wasn’t allowed to have fruit rollups for a whole week. It was awful.

That wasn’t what was bad about the fifth grade girls though, it was the way they picked on everyone. Somehow they found out that Gerard and Frank were betrothed. They were six years old, it wasn’t a serious thing. They just signed a totally unofficial contract that was now hanging up in Frank’s room. It wasn’t a big deal. Except the fifth grade girls did not perceive it that way.

That was how Gerard learned his first slur.

After that, they were self-conscious of their friendship. First graders are sponges though, so all of their classmates started using those words too. They were officially the gay first graders. Not only were they called that among their own class, but the second graders learned of the affair, and then steadily, so did the whole school.

Now, in the evil place, the teachers didn’t take things as lightly as they had in kindergarten. When word spread to the teachers and eventually the principal, that there were two gay first graders, they didn’t laugh it off the way everyone else had. No, Frank and Gerard were sent to the principal’s office. From there they were given the lecture on homosexuality being a bad thing, and they were even read parts of the bible. That was strange as it wasn’t even a religiously affiliated school. It was just a school. The question could have been asked whether that was even legal, or morally correct, but they were six, they didn’t know how to debate. They had never even heard the word debate before.

Frank and Gerard had never heard of the word homosexuality either. They didn’t know there was a difference between liking people who had the same junk as you and liking people who didn’t. That was something unimaginable to their six year old brains.

After that, Frank and Gerard were placed on opposite sides of the classroom. They were isolated from each other in every part of the day except for when they got home. At recess, Gerard wasn’t allowed near Frank, and vice versa. It didn’t seem all that fair. It’s not like they wanted to hurt each other, they just wanted to hang out.

After school they got to see each other again though. Frank’s mom, and Gerard’s parents didn’t see things the way that the school had. They thought it was cute. No one ever considered that the two boys didn’t actually understand what the hell kind of contract had even made. Mostly, they just wanted an excuse to learn how to sign their names in fancy handwriting. Frank’s cursive could’ve been mistaken for someone sneezing on a piece of paper.

At that point in time, Gerard had a new baby brother, who was starting to follow them around. He was called Michael, but they didn’t like that. So he became Mikey. He didn’t know many words back then, but Mikey liked to walk around and follow them. He was three years younger than them, but they hadn’t been allowed to play with him as much when he was a baby. The reason was something about not wanting to drop Mikey on his head like they had with Gerard followed by don’t tell your mother I said that.

It was right around Christmas, about a month had passed since they’d been separated at school when Gerard and Frank had been decorating Gerard’s house, putting things all around. They found themselves under a mistletoe. The two of them had their first kiss when they were six. Basically it was two little boys making faces like they’d just eaten a lemon, then they kissed, and pretended it was the most disgusting thing to have ever happened. They’d made gagging noises, wiped their mouths off, and the works. When they were that small, it didn’t mean much, because they still didn’t really understand the mechanics of much to do with relationships. They were still just best friends. After that, the following weeks they’d made such a melodramatic show of never stepping under that archway at the same time.

The two boys were just best friends. That’s all they were, the school didn’t seem to understand that. They were close, sure, but that’s because they’d spent their whole lives with each other thus far.

They were the closest friends in the world, until, all of a sudden, they weren’t.

First grade came and went, and then second grade started. There was a new girl in their class though. Little miss preachy Savannah. Her name was Savannah. She was rather preachy. Hence the name, preachy Savannah.

The commotion had all but died down about Gerard and Frank’s not-actually-real romance. The gossip still lingered though, because preachy Savannah somehow heard about them, and then she was out to save their souls. You wouldn’t think kids that young could be so hateful. Turns out, hate comes in all shapes, sizes, and degree of dimples.

Preachy Savannah left only about a year after she arrived, but that was enough time for her to get into Gerard’s and Frank’s heads. Neither of them has ever actually learned the truth of what happened that year, because preachy Savannah was also tricky Savannah.

First, Savannah had to discover all of Gerard’s and Frank’s dirty secrets. The first thing she learned was that Gerard cared maybe a little too much about his hair. The second thing she learned was that Frank’s favorite color was red. Preachy Savannah was an evil genius. She took a bottle of red paint, mixed it with a bottle of glue, and put the concoction in Gerard’s winter hat. She didn’t use enough for Gerard to spot the booby trap, but she used enough that Gerard had to get all of his hair cut off. That was, at the time, the worst thing that had ever happened to him, and it’s left him with a distrust of winter hats.

That in and of itself remained a mystery for a few days, as the teacher couldn’t figure out who had perpetrated the heinous act. Frank didn’t know who’d decided to ruin Gerard’s hair, all he knew was that he wanted to pinch, or maybe even kick the person who’d done it. 

The third thing she learned was what Frank’s favorite shirt was. Savannah was emanating the ten plagues essentially, but to a much smaller degree. She wrote a giant letter G in permanent marker on the back of Frank’s shirt during art class while he wasn’t looking. At that point, it hadn’t quite crossed Gerard’s mind that all his hair, the hair he cared so much about, could have been ruined by his best friend. The dots didn’t connect that the evildoer had used red paint, Frank’s favorite color. Now of course it wasn’t Frank who’d done that to his hair, but Gerard didn’t know that, and he didn’t even as much as suspect Frank. He actually started to believe it might have been an accident. That was until Frank accused Gerard of ruining his favorite shirt. The G was a little less ambiguous than the red paint.

At that, Savannah had done her job. She’d set the ball rolling and all of a sudden, the grudge was put in place between Frank and Gerard. They stopped hanging out, almost overnight. It’s amazing how powerful manufactured hate can be, especially between two people who were too young to resolve the problem.

When Savannah had left the school after second grade, Frank and Gerard were already mortal enemies. It just felt natural to hate each other after they jumped to the conclusion that the other had ruined something they loved. The jumped to those conclusions without any proof of that matter, or a reason for either of them to do so. Little kids and logic do not go together very well.

That hatred didn’t end as quickly as everyone had hoped. Third grade went by and they made new friends. Fourth grade was soon to follow with neither of them so much as trying to talk to each other. They lived next door to each other so they really shouldn’t have been behaving like they were, but it was too late. Their friendship was too far gone. 

A couple more years passed, and a couple became a dozen. A dozen became two dozen, and all of a sudden, it was twenty four years later. It had been twenty _five_ years, however, since they’d made that contract, as that was made a year before the two of them begun hating each other. Twenty five years passed, or if you want to get technical, it’s actually been twenty four years, eleven months and twenty nine days.

Gerard hasn’t thought about Frank in at least ten years. The last time they saw each other was at their graduation party. That was twelve years ago.

The day is September 28, and Gerard doesn’t think he’d even recognize Frank if the guy were to come up to him on the street and introduce himself as Frank Iero. Gerard never cared much for his childhood nemesis, Frank, and he made a pact with himself to forget every last person he went to high school with. He’s not doing a terrible job. He accidentally stayed in contact with a few of them, like Ray, but that’s not something he necessarily regrets.

He doesn’t remember that contract he made either, because he was only five at the time.

September 28, twenty five years later. Gerard is thirty, so the expiration date had passed for him a few months ago.

September 28, twenty five years later. Frank is only twenty nine.

Trouble is that the heading of that contract doesn’t say “when one of us is thirty.” The contract says “when we’re _both_ thirty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having some major writers block so I decided to start a new fic. Whoops. Please leave a comment if you are interested in the story.


	2. Remember the Neighbor?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evidently, Gerard got fired. Again.

“Word through the grapevine travels faster than it used to,” Mikey says, looking at Gerard with a grim expression.

“What cryptic shit are you trying to pull on me today?”

“Mother called me,” Mikey says, “because someone hasn’t answered his phone.”

“And how did you know to find me here of all places?” Gerard asks, squinting at the coffee shop in front of him. The sun is too bright, reflecting on the glass windows from the skyscrapers up above. When he was younger, Gerard used to think sky scrapers actually did touch the sky. He thought they poked a hole through the sky, which was dangerous, because if the hole got too big, it’d let all the gravity out. Like a balloon being popped.

“I am clairvoyant,” Mikey says.

“Yeah, or I’m just predictable,” Gerard murmurs, sidestepping his brother to walk into the small shop.

“Why are you ignoring mom?” Mikey asks.

“Because I’m not in the mood to have her lecture me about getting fired again.”

“You’re going to want to pick up the phone sooner or later,” Mikey says, “because you’re going to either be really amused by what she has to say, or really fucking pissed.”

“Or both,” Gerard says, taking his sunglasses off to look at the menu in front of him. He’s not sure why he even looks at the menu, he always orders the exact same thing. The baristas all know him by name. It’s like an episode of fucking Cheers. It’s not like he actually has to order verbally anymore. 

Mikey shakes his head, “well, just pick up the next time, okay?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Coffee is on me,” Mikey says, rolling his eyes when someone behind the counter waves a hello to Gerard.

“Aw, you’re too kind. You think I need you to pay for my food because I’m unemployed.”

“Again.”

“Don’t rub it in, alright?” Gerard says, “Yeah, I’m jobless yet again. You don’t think I don’t know that?”

“Just take the free coffee,” Mikey says throwing a fiver at the lady working the cash register. She doesn’t say anything in response, just doles out the ever-slimming change as the prices continue to increase.

“Yeah alright,” Gerard says, grabbing his drink. “So what is it she’s angry about now? Is it that I got fired, or is it the _reason_ I got fired? Or is it mostly just because this is the fourth time in the last two years that I’ve gotten fired?”

“None of the above,” Mikey says, making his way towards the door of the coffee shop to leave. Gerard pauses, and turns to ask Mikey what the hell he means until he sees that the guy is walking away. Gerard groans, and follows behind at a slower pace. There’s a lid on the coffee but Gerard is not stupid enough to try running with it.

“Mikes, where the hell are you going?” Gerard asks, running slowly out of the shop and back into the brisk autumn air, which is doing no favors to the sniffles he’s coming down with. 

“Um, that way,” Mikey says, pointing.

“You can’t just hijack me, pay for my coffee on the threat that mom is mad at me, and then leave,” Gerard says.

“She’s not mad at you per se. She’s just... it’s so stupid you won’t even believe me. You’re just going to have to take my word for it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Gerard says, “you up for movies tonight maybe?”

“I think you’re going to be busy tonight,” Mikey replies.

“What’s that supposed to mean? What the hell did I _do_?”

Mikey stops and looks at Gerard, with a bored and almost amused expression on his face, “think back twenty five years, Gee.”

“Twenty five years? What?” Gerard asks, “Mikes, you were two back then.”

“That’s all I’m going to say on the matter,” Mikey says, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

“Things? It’s noon on a Friday! What the hell are you doing?” Gerard asks him, as Mikey starts to walk away. As it seems he’s not going to get Mikey to spill anymore, he just stops and lets Mikey walk away on his own.

“I, unlike you, have a job to get back to,” Mikey calls back to him. A few pedestrians walking along the sidewalk look at them with annoyed expressions. The last thing they need is two grown adults shouting across the pavement.

Gerard rolls his eyes and whispers under his breath, “Well fuck you too.”

He makes a U-turn, walking back the way he came, a destination already in mind. Gerard lets the world drift passed him as he walks along the street, not really paying attention to much of anything until he’s stepping down yet another one of his routinely visited streets. He’s fairly sure that by now, he’s worn a path into the concrete from this small menacing alley to that coffee shop.

Gerard walks into the only shop that had the nerve to set itself up in this horror movie backstreet, and he lets the always too-stale air fill his lungs.

“Hey Gee,” a voice calls from behind the counter as Gerard gives a halfhearted wave to his buddy working the register. Then he looks around the comic book store, and sighs. It’s not like there’s really anything new to look at, as he’s got all the newest issues of all the comics he’s reading reserved by the guys in the back because he’s a regular. Sort of a loyalty deal.

“You’re order’s not going to be ready for another three days, I hope you know,” the guy says, a guy named Alan who has an impressive handlebar mustache and can be seen moonlighting as a waiter at the steam punk club across town.

“Yeah, just wanted to escape the grimy New York air, for the even grimier musty air of this poor decrepit building,” Gerard says.

“The building thanks you for the high compliment concerning its appearance.”

“What’s new with you then?” Gerard asks, walking over to the counter.

“Uh, not much. The Mrs. found a new vegetable casserole she wants to try out.”

Gerard makes a face, “Well if you’re not here the next time I see you, I’ll visit the morgue and ask for demise by death cap.”

“You’re a true friend,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Any chance you might have some variety of extreme emergency that might interfere with dinner plans?”

“Are you asking me to lie to your wife for you?” Gerard asks, “You’re going to have to deal with that on your own. Hell if I’m stepping in. Besides, I’ve got a stimulating evening lined up of being yelled at my mother and eating leftover Chinese takeout.”

“Is it about your latest stint with being occupationally terminated?” 

“If that’s your arrogant way of asking whether she’s mad because I got fired again, than I don’t know. My brother was being all mysterious about it. He told me to think back, like twenty five years. What the fuck does that mean though? Like twenty five years ago I still believed Santa Clause was perving in on my nighttime antics,” Gerard says, and then, almost as if it was practiced, Gerard’s phone starts to ring, “oh shit, speak of the devil.”

“Have fun with that one,” Alan says, looking around to pretend he’s got something to do. Gerard flips him off and then, rather begrudgingly, holds his phone up to listen to whatever shit-storm is heading his way.

“Uh hi?” Gerard asks into the receiver.

“Gerard Way! I’ve been calling you nonstop for two days,” the sound of his mother on the other end forces him to pull the speaker away from his ear again, because he cannot afford the bill he’d have to pay if he went to the emergency room for having his ear drums blown out.

“Yeah, I, uh, dropped my phone in a fish tank,” Gerard says, playing with the peeling siding on the counter distractedly.

“You don’t have a fish.”

“I was in a pet store,” Gerard says.

“You don’t have any pets,” she says.

“Well I wasn’t getting things for pets.”

“So what were you doing in a pet store then?”

“What I do in a pet store is none of your concern, mom,” Gerard says. He rolls his eyes at himself because of how stupid an argument this is.

“I see,” she says, making a ‘hm’ noise, “well anyway, that’s not the point.”

“Then get to the point, I am entertaining company,” Gerard says, and he looks at Alan with a warning look in his eyes.

“You’re at home?” she asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Gerard says shrugging. He’s not sure why he’s lying, he just is.

“Oh really?” 

“Mhm.”

“So then you hear me knocking right now?”

“Oh shit,” Gerard says, “that’s you? I thought that was the builders across the street. Hammering or something. I can’t uh, come to the door, I’m not, uh, decent.”

“You’re not decent with company over?” she asks.

“I’m thirty years old,” Gerard says, “What I get up to is also none of your concern.”

“I’m not outside your door, Gerard, you’re just a horrible liar,” she says, sounding disappointed in how gullible Gerard is.

“Oh,” Gerard says, smacking himself in the face, “okay, well I am with a friend though. Alan, say hi.”

Alan just gives him a look like he can’t believe he’s being such a hypocrite. Gerard had refused to lie for him, so really, the guy has no reason to lie for Gerard.

“Hello,” he says, looking at Gerard with an expression saying ‘you owe me.’

“You don’t need to make up excuses not to talk to me, I’ll be quick,” his mother says.

“Alright, what’s up then?”

“Halloween is coming up.”

Gerard is surprised by the words, taken aback by the lack of yelling, or moreover, a point.

“Yes,” Gerard says, drawing his eyebrows together out of confusion. It’s a month away technically, but considering how many months out of the year there actually are, it is technically coming up.

“Do you know what Halloween is?” she asks him.

“Do you want the dictionary definition?” Gerard inquires. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then? Please, just, out with it, I have places to be.”

“No you don’t,” his mother says.

“Alright, but I have three Lord of the Rings movies to get through, plus bonus features, so that’s at least, like, I don’t know, twenty four hours of content or something?”

“Your lack of priorities astounds me.”

“Get to the point,” Gerard repeats, leaning against the counter, with his back to the pointed edge of it now digging into his back. He’s eyeing a display across the floor for something to do with Neil Gaiman, which Gerard will probably end up buying because Neil Gaiman is perfect.

“You’re so impatient,” she sighs, “but anyway, do you remember the house you grew up in?”

“I’m familiar with it, yes,” Gerard says, “I mean, I did live there for like eighteen years, not including the months where I was a fetus.”

“Yes, well, do you remember the family that lived next door to us?”

“Uh, family? I recall it being an old widow,” Gerard says.

“No, the other house.”

“The other house...” Gerard says, thinking back, “Oh right, yeah. I remember that house. That’s where that bitch Frank lived. What an asshole.”

“You didn’t always think like that.”

“I was disillusioned.”

“You’re morphing history to fit your own taste,” his mother accuses.

“So you say,” Gerard rolls his eyes, picturing that annoying little guy that used to walk around school like he owned the place. Frank wasn’t actually popular or anything, he was just overly confident. Gerard hates that guy so much he’s not even sure if hate is the right word for it. He wanted the guy to accidentally walk in front of a bus. Repeatedly.

“Gerard, don’t you remember your childhood at all?”

“What?’

“You two were best friends!”

“Me? Best friends with that guy? You must be mistaken,” Gerard replies.

“I have an entire photo album to prove it.”

“You do not! What? There is no way,” Gerard says, trying to think back. A lot of his childhood is pretty blurry though, he doesn’t really remember much of anything before fourth grade.

“Gerard you’re not that oblivious. Sure you remember being friends with Frank,” she says, “you stopped hanging out in second grade. You can’t tell me you don’t remember.”

“I don’t remember,” Gerard lies, because, come to think of it, he does vaguely remember being friends with someone who, putting the pieces together, was probably Frank. 

Gerard doesn’t even think he remembers what Frank looks like. He had... a face. Probably some legs, and a couple of arms. Gerard recalls brown eyes. Or maybe they were green. They were kind of some color between the two. Frank was really hot in senior year. Gerard’s eyes widen at that thought and he tells himself to pretend that he’s never thought that in his entire life.

“Okay,” Gerard says, “So, suppose Frank and I _were_ friends. What does that have to do with anything now?”

“Frank’s birthday is on Halloween.”

“Good for him,” Gerard says, “He’s still a dick.”

“You haven’t talked to him in over ten years, Gerard, you can’t say that with such certainty.”

“Yes I can, and I never intend to see him again so no one’s going to be able to prove me wrong.”

“Well that’s a shame,” she says, and Gerard’s eyes nearly pop right out of his head when he widens them this time.

“Why is that a shame?” Gerard asks.

“Because, oh you probably don’t remember this, but anyway, Gerard, you’re thirty.”

“I am aware of my own age, thank you for the refresher,” he says.

“The point is that you’re thirty and you haven’t had an emotionally stable relationship in those thirty years.”

“Well, you can discount the first sixteen or so years, because I was a child,” Gerard says, “And a horribly bad judge of character if what you say about Frank is true.”

“It is, but the point is that Frank is in the same city as you-”

“Where are you going with this?”

“It’s just that, well back then, you and Frank were so close,” she says.

“Yes, but if I do recall correctly, he was a little traitor. A Benedict Arnold in disguise,” Gerard reminds her, and then murmurs under his breath, “evil bastard.”

“Do you even know why you hate him?”

“Wasn’t he the one who made me cut off my hair? Bastard! I said so already.”

His mother tsks, “Frank wouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh wouldn’t he? Are you trying to tell me he was framed? The little runt was framed by some criminal mastermind. Some little trickster, probably wearing a ski mask, framed Frank and then he laughed monstrously at the disastrous deed he’d committed. Oh, I can just see it now. You might want to sell that story to Paramount, because that’s just what it is. A story. A lie. It’s not true.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I was in second grade, and no second graders are smart enough to try to ruin our friendship by implicating the incident that resulted in my hair being chopped off,” Gerard replies.

“Do you remember before that happened though?”

“I try to forget about it,” Gerard answers, remembering how he used to hang out with Frank, basically every day. For god’s sake, Frank was his first kiss. Gross.

“You two were going to get married,” she says, “He was going to be Batman and you were going to be Wolverine.”

“I don’t ever recall the intercompany homosexual relationship issue of either of those comics,” Gerard says.

“You don’t have to think about it so analytically, you were five.”

“Therefore, an idiot.”

“You were adorable!”

“Were?” Gerard asks, “Mother I feel you are horribly misrepresenting how adorable I am now. You meant to say ‘are.’ I are adorable.”

“Your grammar-”

“Was intentionally wrong. Back to the conversation at hand, how does Frank’s birthday concern me?”

“It’s just that, well, you are older than you were back then. You’re more mature, you should just, meet with him at least. Try to find common ground or something.”

Gerard snorts, and almost feels his eyes roll out of his head at the words. “Surely you’re kidding.”

“He’s in New York,” she says.

“So?” Gerard says, “Lots of people are in New York. The Saturday Night Live cast! The characters from the show Friends!”

“Gerard,” she says, scolding him through her voice alone.

“Mother,” Gerard replies.

“Well, see the thing is that the two of you made this, sort of contract thing,” she says.

“Yeah, well back then I also made a picture using only stamps, resulting in a piece of construction paper that cost upwards of seven dollars,” Gerard says.

“Gerard, would you listen to me and set the sarcasm aside for just a moment?”

“I’m sorry, my sarcasm and I are a package deal,” Gerard says, “you want the sarcasm to go, you’re going to have to take me with it.”

“Do you remember that contract?”

“I recall thinking Frank and I would get married,” Gerard says, “but I also thought that Morrissey would officiate the wedding. I was banking on juice boxes and teddy grahams being served at the reception as well.”

“I just think you should maybe give him a visit.”

“You want me to visit my arch nemesis so that we can hook up?” Gerard says. “Mom, you are not being serious.”

“Gerard, you got fired. Again.”

“Everyone keeps saying that ‘again’ with such vehemence. Yes, I get it. I get fired a lot, I’m sorry. What do you want from me? A written confession that I’m bad at holding down a job? I can’t keep a job, sorry.”

“I just meant that, well, you’re in your thirties without a stable job, relationship, home, or anything else stable for that matter.”

“Not true,” Gerard says, “I just put up earthquake hooks in my living room, because the Subway travels right next to my building. They’re pretty damn stable now.”

“You just need to find some real stability.”

“You’re right,” Gerard says, “I should nail my bookshelf into the wall too.”

“I’m not kidding!”

“Me neither.”

“So you just want me to show up at this Frank guy’s place, a guy who I haven’t talked to in over ten years, who I’ve hated for over half of my life, and you just want me to what? Like, get down on my knee and ask him to marry me to stay true to a contract we made when we were five?”

“I just want you to have _something_.”

“Something? Oh, I’m sorry that all I have right now is my health and an ability to cope on my own without depending on others,” Gerard says.

“But you don’t have a job! No relationship! You won’t be able to pay your rent in a month.”

“Well I’m sorry that I’m such a fucking disappointment.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” she says.

“Not in so many words,” Gerard says, “but yeah, it is what you were implying.”

“I just think-”

Gerard groans, “No, you know what? Fine! Just give me the guys address. Tell me where he lives, and fine, I’ll go see him. You can have your way, because I’m such an utter failure and you don’t deserve having such a washout of a son.”

“Ger-”

“No, don’t bother. We both know it’s true. I’m not under any misconception that it’s not true. Just tell me where he lives,” Gerard says, using his best guilt inducing voice.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Gerard says, louder than he’d anticipated, “just send it to me. You can have your way, okay? Just give me the information.”

Fast forward five minutes of his mom trying to calm him down, and Gerard scoffing her off because he’s stubborn and he has a bravado to uphold. Finally, however, he gets the details, not knowing whether he intends to do as he said he would or not. 

Lying to your mom is generally not a good idea, but Gerard is an adult, and somewhat of a storyteller. That’s the way he sees it at least.

“You know you don’t have to.”

“But you’re going to be irritated with me if I don’t talk to Frank, and I’m going to be annoyed with you being annoyed at me if I don’t. Besides, at the very least, if he’s still a jerk, I can say it to his face how much I hate him,” Gerard says.

“Is that meant to be a silver lining?”

“I like clouds, the sun is annoying,” Gerard says. After another, what feels like three years, but is probably only a minute, he finally finds the space in the conversation to hang up.

“What was that about?” Alan asks, as Gerard looks at him over his shoulder.

The only response Gerard provides is a long exasperated sigh, followed by a rather unintelligible flailing of his arms. At that, Gerard walks back through the front door, trying to figure out anyway out of doing what he just said he’d do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still interesting or no?


	3. Shitdick and Fuckhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, uh, Frank makes a prominent entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s1291.photobucket.com/user/Sexy_Bread_Tin/media/smallerwhenwereboth_zps9f655281.png.html)  
>  I made a cover art thing.

Gerard ends up in front of an apartment in a fairly swanky building which he resents. In his own apartment, Gerard is constantly having to wipe dust off his furniture from the Subway disrupting the unstable roof above him, and Frank has an apartment that doesn’t smell like the guy across the halls dirty socks.

He doesn’t live in an overly fancy place, but anything is better than where Gerard lives.

Gerard has to literally slap himself to come to the grips that he is literally standing in front of _this_ of all doors. His least favorite person in the world, besides of course from various dictators, is standing behind that door somewhere. Maybe. He might not even be home. Gerard almost hopes that’s the truth.

He exhales, realizing that he forgot to breathe out of the revulsion of who might be on the other side.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself before knocking on the door. The moment his knuckles hit the wood he regrets it. He really wants to just run away and pretend this never happened, but he hears someone fucking walking around on the other side.

Gerard can feel his heart rate increasing and it’s scaring the shit out of him that someone is stepping closer to the door. 

Gerard really hopes Frank is ugly. He really hopes that Frank has a giant mole or botched plastic surgery.

When the door opens in front of him though, Gerard’s hope that Frank became ugly is squashed. He got hotter. Like, way hotter. Like, if this weren’t his least favorite person he’s ever met, than he would totally want to get into this guy’s pants.

Fucking hell, Gerard wanted to make this quick and tell the guy that he hates him, but now he’s practically drooling over a guy he wants to chop the appendages off of.

“Yes?” the guy who Gerard is hoping isn’t Frank, because he’s way too attractive and that would be way too depressing if Frank got that hot.

“Are you Frank Iero?” Gerard asks, staggering slightly on the words. That’s Frank’s voice he’s sure of it. He hasn’t forgotten that voice in the slightest. 

“Who’s asking?” Frank replies, and then evaluates Gerard, “you don’t live here, how’d you get in?”

“I grabbed the door while someone was leaving,” Gerard replies.

“So much for safety if people can just come in and out as they please. Tell me who the hell you are then.”

“I’m Gerard. Gerard Way.”

Frank looks confused for a moment before a flash of understanding fills his eyes and he tries to slam the door as fast as he can. Gerard puts his foot out to stop himself from being blocked off, and he’s fairly sure his toes are screaming out in agony. This doesn’t look so painful when people do it in movies, but god damn, it’s like his foot is being sawed off.

“Get out of my apartment, you son of a bitch!” Frank shrieks at him.

“We have to talk about things, fuckhead,” Gerard says, using his old pet name for Frank.

“Calling me that isn’t going to make me open the door on you,” Frank says, still struggling for power in the war to get the door slammed in Gerard’s face.

“It’s about our moms, asshole!”

“I am not interested!” Frank says.

“This isn’t high school you nimrod, we can be adults about this!” Gerard says. Frank pauses for a moment, not letting out on the door, just blanking his expression for a moment.

Gerard has a glimmer of hope that maybe that got through to him but then Frank spits, “you’re a dick. I don’t regret putting that cow shit in your locker.”

Gerard grimaces, remembering said incident. “I don’t regret stealing your gym clothes in tenth grade.”

“You asshole,” Frank says, giving Gerard a look of pure venom, “I got detention for a week because of that.”

“My locker smelled like shit for three months because of you.”

“I hate you,” Frank says menacingly.

“I hate you more,” Gerard says through gritted teeth, and he’s pretty sure he’s almost got the door open enough for him to get inside, but Frank’s leg is in the way. It’s in the position that if Gerard were to try to leap into the apartment, he’d probably get kneed in the balls.

“Ugh, you fuckhead, this is serious,” Gerard says, “Our mothers called each other.”

“So what!”

Gerard rolls his eyes, and tells Frank what his mother had told him, “Well your mom found this thing in a box of your old stuff. It was this, contract that had been hanging in your room.”

“What contract? Why the fuck does it concern you?” Frank asks.

Gerard practically growls, feeling his fingers start to become numb from the pain of keeping the door open. They’ll hurt a lot more if his hand slips and Frank is able to crush them as well as his toes in his front door.

“It was a contract,” Gerard says, trying to breathe even though he’s panting slightly from the exertion, “said that you and I were going to get fucking married!”

“You’re lying,” Frank says.

“I wish I was.”

“Why would I marry you?”

“We apparently used to be best friends,” Gerard says.

“Yeah I remember,” Frank replies.

“Wait, you do?” Gerard asks, almost losing the door in his surprise.

“Of course,” Frank says, “I’m not an idiot. You and I were friends. Everyone thought I was gay.”

“You _are_ gay,” Gerard states as a fact.

“So are you!”

“That’s not the point,” Gerard says, “The contract says that we would get married if neither of us was married by the time we were thirty.”

“You must be shitting me,” Frank says, “it’s a piece of paper, I’m not going to take that seriously, even if it is real.”

“Yes, but both of our moms are disappointed in us for being major fuckups!”

“How’d you know that?” Frank asks, and finally, the door fight is lost. Gerard wins? He’s not sure, he just knows that Frank stops trying to close the door on him, because he looks like he’s wheezing a little bit. It’s good to know Gerard’s not the only one who is terribly out of shape.

“Because we’re both fuckups, fuckhead,” Gerard says, “and the word ‘both’ entails two parties.”

“You’re a fuckup too?” Frank asks, “Why does that not surprise me?”

“Speak for yourself,” Gerard says, “I should’ve known you’d end up an unemployed loser like me.”

“Oh I’m not unemployed,” Frank says defensively, and he turns around to walk back into his apartment. He doesn’t really say if he wants Gerard to come in or not, so Gerard stands in the entrance, just sort of watching Frank.

His apartment is not too shabby, but it’s not five star living either. It’s more impressive than Gerard’s at the very least. He’s got a relatively open floor plan. There’s a couch pointed at a four or five year old TV to Gerard’s right. On the left side is a fairly nice looking kitchen with dark appliances. It’s also alarmingly clean, but Gerard does recall something about Frank being a neat freak. Emphasis on the freak.

“Then why are you home in the middle of the day?” Gerard asks.

“I don’t work these hours,” Frank says. “Close the fucking door shitdick, before some other nightmare from my past comes waltzing in.”

Gerard rolls his eyes at his own nickname. No one has called him shitdick in twelve years, and those twelve years were blissful because of that. Not actually, the last twelve years of his life have been hell. In and out of depression, alcohol dependency, and screwing up his entire life only to end up a reluctantly sober artist without a job nor money. So maybe life after high school hasn’t been too kind. 

It’s been even worse than high school actually. All he had to worry about there was name calling, shit stuffed into his locker, and tests. Now he has to worry about the inevitability that he’s going to be kicked out of his apartment, and the disappointment from his mother. The stress isn’t as bad and at least he doesn’t have the urge to shoot himself as often, but it’s not much better.

“So what hours do you work?” Gerard questions, “hang on are you a stripper?”

Frank turns and looks at him with such a judgmental glare that Gerard almost feels it ripping apart his insides. Frank’s eyebrows raise and he looks at Gerard like he’s grown a second head.

“Strippers aren’t the only people who work late hour’s, shitdick,” Frank says, “but I’m flattered that you think I’m attractive enough.”

“You look like the aliens from Independence Day to me,” Gerard says, and then frowns, “actually no. That’s offensive to the aliens from Independence Day. You’d be lucky to look like them.”

“I hate you so much that right now I’m fantasizing about wrapping millions of rubber bands around your head until the tension builds up so much that your skull explodes,” Frank says with the most sugared down tone anyone could ever imagine.

“I want you to fall out of a window but survive, and then I want you to crawl down the street looking for help when a car comes by and you get stuck under it, causing you to be dragged down several city blocks until you finally fall off in a construction zone where builders pour boiling tar over your face, burying you into the concrete.”

Frank’s making a face, and Gerard’s aware that he’s standing a little too close for comfort. The kind of close that means he’s either ready to take a swing at Gerard, or he’s about to make out with him. It’s obvious which is more likely given the fact that Frank could literally turn a lesser soul into stone with that glare of his.

“You’re psychotic.”

“You’re disgusting,” Gerard counteracts.

“I wouldn’t marry you if you and I were the last two people on earth.”

“Oh how cliché.”

“Fine! I wouldn’t marry you if we were the last three living things on the planet, the third being Jabba the fucking Hutt. If I had to choose between marrying you and being mauled alive by a dozen lions, I would choose the lions and laugh while they killed me.”

“You love me that much?” Gerard says, “Because that sounds like heaven compared to being married to you.”

“So there then,” Frank says, “We’re not going to get married.”

“Fine!” Gerard says.

“So why are you here then?”

“Because... I don’t fucking know, I hate being a fucking failure all the time and my mom wanted me to meet with you. She thought it was possible for us to find some common ground or something, which is laughable, because I hate you more than words can ever describe.”

“Yeah,” Frank nods, “so you’re jobless then? I always knew you’d be a failure.”

“Well if your mom is all shitty about being a failure too than that must mean you’re not much better than I am. So what is it then? How’d you disappoint her?”

“None of your business.”

“Then I’ll just have to assume you’re a stripper.”

“I am not a-” Frank starts, fuming, and then he sticks his tongue out at Gerard. “Go to hell.”

“I’m already there. It’s called your apartment.”

“So why don’t you just leave then?”

“I should!” Gerard says, stomping his foot resolutely.

“Then go,” Frank says, pointing to the door, “I don’t fucking want you here. I’m not going to marry you, you’re not going to marry me, it’s been settled.”

“Fine,” Gerard says, turning around and grabbing the doorknob. He’s ready to just leave and never look at Frank ever again except for in his dreams where he cuts the guy’s head off. Frank stops him before he goes though, by calling out his name. 

“What do you want?” Gerard whines, turning to look at Frank again.

“What exactly do our parents want us to do?” Frank asks.

“Why are you asking me?” Gerard asks.

“Because, I’ve been avoiding my mom calling for like three weeks, but you seem to have all the answers,” Frank says.

“Three weeks? Damn, I only left my mom on the hook for a few days. You’re a heartless monster alright. I don’t want to play this game of telephone with you, I just know that my mom wants me to be in a relationship, and she thinks that you and I would be good together because we were twenty five years ago.”

“Twenty five years is a long time to change,” Frank says.

“Well I know that, and you know that, but our mothers still think we’re little kids. They still think deep down inside that we care for one another.”

“So what’s that mean then? If neither of us are in a relationship before I’m thirty than they expect us to get married?” Frank asks, looking dumbfounded at such a prospect.

“Well, not exactly. I think ultimately that’s what they want, but if we fail than they’re just going to be even more disappointed than they are now.”

“Well that fucking sucks, because my mom already looks at me like I’m a convicted criminal during Christmas,” Frank says.

Gerard rolls his eyes, “so what? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Poor little Fwankie makes his mommy sad one day of the year.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

“You disgust me,” Frank says.

“Back at ya,” Gerard says.

“So... ugh, I can’t even look at you without wanting to break my fist on your face,” Frank says, “So what do we, uh, do?”

“About what?”

“Well, we’ve established that both of our moms are disappointed in us, and we know what they _want_ from us.”

“But we’re not going to give them that,” Gerard says.

“No, of course not!”

“But...?”

“But,” Frank says, “maybe we could actually like, make an effort to find other people to prove them wrong.”

Gerard gives him a face, “what?”

“Well, maybe, we could like, I don’t fucking know do I? Like, we have a month right? A month before they start treating us worse than they do now, we could try to actually find people in that time!”

“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing the past ten years?” Gerard asks.

“Probably being an idiot,” Frank replies.

“Could you, just, for like a minute,” Gerard says, “just for a minute, let’s be cordial?”

“Alright shitdick,” Frank says, “starting now.”

“No. Fuckhead. Starting now.”

“Alright so, what I’m saying is that we should actually buckle down and fucking go out there and find boyfriends, because the last thing I want is to have my own mother ask me about _you_ ,” Frank says.

“Wait, you’re being serious? You really think we can both just somehow find the love of our lives in thirty three days?”

“Well I don’t see why we should just sit on our asses and do nothing about this!”

“But I, I mean, I don’t even know any single guys I’m even kind of attracted to,” Gerard says.

“Well, I know some guys,” Frank says.

“Are you literally saying you’ll try to set me up?” Gerard asks, “Knowing you, you’d probably try to set me up with your pet gecko.”

“If I had a pet gecko, it would be too good for you.” 

“Well all my friends are too good for you!” Gerard says, “Even the guy who was sent to prison for vehicular manslaughter.”

“Oh please,” Frank says, “do you really want your pride to get in the way of having your mom make sideways remarks about you for the rest of your life?”

Gerard considers this for a second and rolls his eyes when he sees that Frank has a point. He doesn’t want that, no. He also doesn’t want to be forced to find someone because Frank made him agree to marry him twenty five years ago, but that’s his life right now. He doesn’t actually know who propositioned the stupid-ass contract, but he’s going to blame it on Frank.

“Okay, so maybe I know a few people who aren’t exactly my type, but that you might like, if that’s what you’re asking,” Gerard says.

“I hate this.”

“I hate you.”

“Same,” Frank scowls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name calling will probably be most of the fic, but you probably guessed that anyway.


	4. More Insults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically the same as the last chapter, but also not.

“Why the fuck are you staring at me right now?” Gerard asks.

“I’m trying to figure out how long it would take for all the blood to drain out of your body if I were to slit your throat,” Frank replies.

“Well, we’re in your kitchen. Please do, take me out of my misery.”

“I make you miserable?”

“Worse than that,” Gerard says.

“Good.”

“Go away.”

“I live here, you go away,” Frank says.

“Not until we make a game plan. And also, I want you to spill on what you did to disappoint mommy dearest.”

“You can pry as much as you like, I’m not going to tell you.”

“So is it your job then?” Gerard asks, “It’s your job that disappoints your mother?”

“Among other things,” Frank replies.

“Oh what an insight on things I don’t care about.”

“You asked!”

“You were stupid enough to think I actually cared,” Gerard replies.

“Fuck you.”

“I know you want to, but we’ve got other things to deal with.”

“You’re infuriating. So what do you propose we do then? Like set each other up like mad in the hope that at least one of us can fall in love before my birthday?” Frank asks.

“That seems like the plan, yes. Only one of us has to find a guy then, because I feel like our mom’s might have a thing or two to say about cheating.”

“Technically that would be polyamory.”

“Technically, they don’t give a fuck what the proper word is. One of us has to get a guy because if one of us is in a relationship than _we_ don’t have to be in a relationship,” Gerard says.

“Well that’s good news for me, because we both know who’s more likeable.”

“Yeah, me,” Gerard replies, “Why would that be good news for you then?”

“You’re a fucking wanker.”

Gerard pulls his eyebrows together, “Why’d you get British all of a sudden? Have you been watching too much Skins or something?”

“None of your business what I watch,” Frank says. 

“Is that your way of telling me that you’re addicted to gay porn?” Gerard says, “and I don’t mean no sexist lesbian shit, I mean ‘oh I’ve never had sex with another guy before’ who then proceeds to ride a dick like a fucking pogo stick?”

“I don’t think I’m the one who just admitted to watching too much porn, Gerard,” Frank says.

Gerard frowns, because that did backfire on him a little bit. He decides to shrug it off and not let it get to him. Or, more accurately, not let Frank get to him.

“My point is that we need to get this problem solved fast, and I mean fast, because if I even so much as have to go on a date with you, I will tear my hair out,” Gerard says.

“Probably not a good idea, as you’re not very pleasing to the eye as it is, and if you went bald you’d be even worse. People would be advised to wear horse blinders whenever having to come into close contact with you.”

“The horse blinders are so they don’t look straight at me and end up madly in love.”

“Arrogant,” Frank scoffs.

“If you’ve got it, flaunt it,” Gerard says.

“But it’s sad that you’re so disillusioned into thinking that you have anything. The only thing you have is an overlarge head, and a dumb haircut.”

“My hair is better than yours at least.”

“It looks like you skinned Elmo and decided to wear his carcass as a hat,” Frank says.

“Your face looks like a plastic surgeon tried to fix it, but it ended up being too hard a job to handle so he had to toss you away mid-surgery.”

“At least my insult was fact based while you’re just talking out of your ass,” Frank says, “Your mouth must get lonely with how little you talk with it.”

“Your hand must be sore from how much you have to fuck yourself with it,” Gerard replies.

“You have no idea how much I want to punch you in the face right now.”

“Oh yeah? Well then fucking punch me then!”

“No, because the thing is that you’re just not worth it,” Frank says.

“Or you know I could totally knock your headlights out with one swing.”

“You couldn’t lift a gallon of milk.”

“You couldn’t lift a _pint_ of milk,” Gerard replies.

“We’re not even getting anywhere right now!” Frank says, “We’re just fucking yelling at each other and we’re not going anywhere! Like, I’m not any further away from being thirty, and neither of us is anywhere closer to finding a soul mate.”

“It’s just so easy to insult you. Nothing’s changed, you’re still such an easy target.”

“You’re proving my point.”

Gerard groans, “ugh, fine. So we need to do this fast, and we can’t be too picky.”

“Right,” Frank says, “So, like, I have to set you up with people I know then? Ugh, I pity them.”

“I just hope none of my friends have an overly sensitive gag reflex, because when they see you, they’ll certainly have the need to hydro pump.” 

“That’s not at all the danger they’d have with me if they have a sensitive gag reflex,” Frank says, grinning.

“You disgust me. And I think you’re being generous.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I’m sorry but I don’t have a magnifying glass with me.”

That’s right about the moment where Gerard is certain Frank’s going to throw him across the room, but instead he just gets this face like he’s been possessed by a demon who’s out for blood or something. Gerard smirks at him, feeling somewhat comfortable because he just has this gut feeling that Frank’s not actually going to hurt him. He just doubts Frank actually would, he’s not sure why, but it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing he’d do. It’s not like Gerard knows him well enough, but they’re not exactly teenagers anymore, and have moved passed that sort of animalistic reflex.

“Ugh, shitdick,” Frank whispers under his breath, and then turns to walk into his living room. Gerard stays where he is, waiting for Frank to say something of intelligence. That’s not likely.

“So, like what’ya want in a guy then?” Frank asks, which is the last thing Gerard had expected to hear him say.

“Excuse me?”

“If I’m going to set you up I have to know!”

“Oh,” Gerard says, and then suddenly becomes uncomfortable because he does not want to tell Frank about all the things he wants in a guy. “The exact opposite of you.”

“Alright so you want an ugly, untalented, stupid giant?” Frank asks.

“ _Who’s_ arrogant?”

Frank rolls his eyes, “alright just make it quick, I want to stop seeing you as soon as humanly possible.”

“Ugh, fine. I don’t know. I just want, like, a guy who isn’t a dick? Likes music and comic books. Doesn’t hurt if he looks good, but I care more about whether he _is_ good. Don’t want someone who’s mean to people,” Gerard says, “You know, or something like that.”

“Really?” Frank asks.

“Yeah? What? Why? Gonna tell me that’s stupid?”

“No,” Frank says, “just, uh, same.”

“Same?”

“Yeah, whatever! Just, like, that’s what I want to,” Frank says, looking uncomfortable at his own words, like they were forced out of him.

“Ew,” Gerard says, “We have the same taste.”

“Well I guess I can’t insult you there then. I would love to, because you deserve to have someone insult you every minute of your life, but I just don’t have the time to waste.” 

“And you’d run out of things to say after a few seconds,” Gerard replies.

“Yeah, because I would just be overflowing with insults that I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything long enough to get the words out.”

“Why am I even here still?” Gerard asks, “We both have the information we need, I should just leave.”

“Yeah, you should,” Frank says, not moving as Gerard makes his way towards the front door. “Oh wait, no, actually!”

“What now?” Gerard asks, with such exasperation in his voice that Frank almost cares that he’s distraught over still being there.

“Well I don’t have any, like, ew, I can’t believe I’m about to say this. I don’t have any contact information from you. How am I supposed to tell you what the plans are for your date, and vice versa, if I don’t even have your phone number?”

“The last thing in the entire world I want to do is give my phone number to Frank Iero.”

“Well I don’t want to give mine to you, Gerard. This isn’t exactly ideal, but it’s just the way we’re going to have to roll right now. As soon as this is all over, you can lose my number and we can pretend we’ve never met.”

“It won’t be hard to pretend I never knew you,” Gerard says, “I really wish that were the case.”

“Me too. I just, I loathe you so much that I don’t think ‘loathe’ is even a strong enough word.

“It most definitely isn’t, fuckhead.”

Frank stares daggers into Gerard, and in his head he’s actually stabbing Gerard with real daggers. If only he knew how to hide a body.

Gerard reluctantly writes his number down for Frank and specifically instructs him that he absolutely may not call him under any circumstances whatsoever. Instead, he tells Frank that they will text. He will not let Frank call him though. The only circumstances Frank’s been given where he’s allowed to actually call Gerard are if he’s dying, because apparently, Gerard would enjoy watching that with a bowl of popcorn. 

“Hopefully, we won’t have to actually see each other ever again,” Gerard says, standing in Frank’s doorway. He’s itching to run out now, but he at least wants to tell Frank he hates him one more time before leaving.

“That would be ideal,” Frank says, “We’ll just set each other up, and then one of us will get a boyfriend, and that’ll be it. Indefinitely.”

“I look forward to never having to see you again,” Gerard says with a fake smile.

“Back at ya,” Frank answers.

Gerard makes a disgusted face at Frank one more time before turning on his heels and walking back down Frank’s hallway. He makes quick work of the stairs, feeling as though Frank’s eyes are still on him, even though they can’t be with the bends in the hall. He just feels all dirty, like part of Frank still lingers on him.

When Gerard makes it outside of the apartment he shiver slightly, and it’s not because of the gust of wind that greets him. Mostly he just can’t believe he was in the _lair_ of his least favorite guy on the planet. He never wants to go back there ever.

It’s like a nightmare coming true, where you find yourself in the middle of some big scary castle with people chasing you. Or maybe that’s just an episode of Scooby Doo. Whatever the case, it felt wrong in all the wrong ways to be in Frank’s apartment. Gerard had half-expected to see monsters in the windows, or cobwebs in the corners, because he imagines Frank living in some dank, murky cave.

Why on earth did Frank have to be all mysterious about his job though? Gerard doesn’t understand that. Maybe he’s a porn star. That image makes Gerard’s eyes widen, and he brushed it away, because on the one hand, that’s nasty, and on the other, that sounds oddly hot.

Gerard winces at his own thought and is almost tempted to go home and wash that depravity away, but then he realizes it’s not actually possible to take a sponge to your own brain. You could probably take a sponge to someone else’s brain, but you would have to kill them first. Gerard’s first pick would be Frank.

He’s also just really annoyed that Frank looks the way he does. That’s just aggravating. Why did Frank get to become hot? Gerard didn’t turn into a worm or anything, but he certainly didn’t age as gracefully as Frank did. Maybe that’s just jealousy though, because no one really cares for their own appearance. Gerard hopes that maybe, Frank thought the same of him.

But he did get hot that’s for sure. He still looked like a little punk, the kind of kid that got sent to detention too often in high school. He was that kid though. Frank was the little punk kid. He was the kid who got a not-so-legal tattoo when he was sixteen and had his fifteen minutes of fame in the limelight of their high school popularity contest because of it. Gerard wasn’t surprised to see that he had more. He was fairly inked up. If Frank weren’t Frank, Gerard would have thought he looked cool. But he is Frank so he looked like an Oompa Loompa.

He makes his way quickly back down the street, hoping that if he gets far enough away, he’ll be able to forget about Frank for a little while. He doesn’t want to have Frank in any corner of his mind, least of all at the top of it. Gerard only just left the guys apartment though, so obviously he’s still thinking about him. Or at least, Gerard hopes that’s why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	5. He's Got a Thing For Band Members

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though to be fair, who doesn't have a thing for band members?

“I got a text from Frank last night.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. At four in the morning. While I was trying to sleep.”

“Okay?” Mikey asks.

“Yeah, he said, and I quote, ‘just wanted to text you to let you know that you’re an asshole and that I hope you die in a freak accident.’” Gerard says.

“So you two haven’t changed much then.”

“No, we have. He’s gotten worse. I hate him even more now.”

“So, what are you going to do then?” Mikey asks.

“Well, we’re trying to set each other up to get our moms off of our backs.”

“Wait, you’re literally helping each other? Like actually. You’re not helping each other by giving the other a hand to jump off a cliff or something?” Mikey questions.

“If I knew where to find a cliff, I would surely help him off of it. Then again, there are a lot of skyscrapers in this city...”

“Gerard!” Mikey reprimands.

“Sorry. I’ll plot his murder another day.”

“How about not at all?”

“He texted me at four in the morning and woke me up!” Gerard says.

“Why was he awake that late? Or early?”

“I don’t know, I’ve decided that he’s a stripper,” Gerard shrugs.

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? Frank the stripper? Magic Frank?”

“Yeah, well or maybe he’s a porn star,” Gerard says.

“Frank A. Nal?”

Gerard snorts, “You got any other names?”

“Uh, Frank Cox? Frank S. Gaye? Frank Cumming,” Mikey suggests.

“Gross, Mikes. You’re just a weirdo,” Gerard says, shaking his head and laughing. He messes with the sleeve of his shirt absentmindedly and tries to figure out how to take the topic off of Frank. He’s not sure he wants to though. He hates the guy, but now that he’s reentered Gerard’s life, he can’t help himself from thinking about him. All he wants to say about Frank is that he’s awful, but he’s at the top of his brain now.

It’s almost like when he was in high school and he used to bitch about Frank at the dinner table. He would always rant on and on about how dumb he was, how much he hated Frank, how he couldn’t believe Frank lived only next door. It got to be so bad that people couldn’t bear to hang out with Gerard because all he would do was complain. Gerard worries now, that that might be happening again.

It doesn’t worry him enough to stop bitching about Frank though. There’s a lot of things to complain about. It’s like a buffet of insults, and Gerard gets to mix and match all the different ones he wants. That’s Frank’s fault for being so grotesque and easily offended.

“You asked,” Mikey shrugs.

“Since when do you have a plethora of porn star names at your disposal anyway, Mikes?” Gerard asks.

“Sometimes it’s better for something’s to be left unsaid. But if you must know, I have some strange coworkers. Did you know the guy who delivers our mail owns a pet hedgehog.”

“Why would anyone want a pet hedgehog?”

“Why _wouldn’t_ you want a pet hedgehog? I guess everyone knows what you’d name it though,” Mikey says.

“Knuckles.”

“Knuckles isn’t even a fucking hedgehog, you nimrod.”

“Well forgive me for being a thirty year old man who probably shouldn’t even know who Knuckles is in the first place,” Gerard replies.

“You’re thirty, you’re not a zombie,” Mikey says, rolling his eyes, “and besides, you’re not a real adult. You never have been.”

“Oh, and I suppose you are?”

“I have a job.”

“Yeah, well I have a crippling existential depression from the fear of being overly in debt with no income to support my comic book addiction.”

Mikey shakes his head, “you were pulling it off until you admitted to the comic book addiction. Like I said, you’re not a real adult. You’re like one of those TV cliché’s where the little kid sits on another little kids shoulders and puts on a suit to pretend they’re an adult. You’re just clawing at the side of a crater, making whining sounds and calling yourself a grown up.”

“I resent that.”

“Yeah, well anyway, what’s your future husband’s actual job?” Mikey asks, “And besides the fact that you hate him, how’s Frank doing?”

“You traitor of a brother,” Gerard says.

“Hey, Frank and I got along pretty well in high school. We would complain about the things you do and spread the rumor that you were a vampire,” Mikey says.

“No I think my complete lack of any sunlight and my insatiable desire to hiss at people was what made people think I was a vampire.”

“Well we helped the rumor along then,” Mikey shrugs. “So how is Frank? What does he actually do?”

“I told you, I’ve decided that he’s a stripper.”

“He’s not a stripper,” Mikey rolls his eyes, “and by saying that, you’re admitting that he’s hot enough to be a stripper.”

“Butter face.”

“Yeah that’s it,” Mikey says, rolling his eyes once again, “so you find him attractive then? What’s that like? Having a crush on your greatest enemy.”

“I do not have a crush on Frank Iero. I am not a little kid. I don’t get crushes.”

“Except for the one you have on Frank.”

“I don’t have a crush on him!”

“That’s what you would say if you had a crush on Frank though,” Mikey says.

“But it’s also what I would say if I didn’t have a crush on him and was telling you the truth. Listen, he’s ugly, or maybe he’s not, but his face is of very little importance to me, as I hate him with a burning passion and I would never ever even consider him romantically ever. Never ever.”

“Yeah, so you like him,” Mikey says.

“I would like to bury him,” Gerard corrects.

“With love,” Mikey says, grinning at the look of disgust on Gerard’s face.

“Saying that I am attracted to Frank is like saying I’m attracted to that pineapple on the counter,” Gerard says, pointing to his kitchen where there actually is a pineapple sitting on the laminate counter.

“Why do you have a pineapple?”

“I just do,” Gerard shrugs.

“Is Frank doing well? Surely he’s got more money than you unless he lives in a cardboard box, but he always seemed like he was going places.”

“What, and I’m _not_ going places?”

“Gerard, you’re going to a thrift store to see if they have any secondhand Green Lantern T-shirts, and that’s not what I imagined Frank as doing. I thought he’d be like, some big rock star or something.” 

“Please,” Gerard scoffs, looking like Mikey just told some sort of joke that only he gets. “Frank? He’s a dick. You’ve got to have charisma to be a rock star. The most extravagant job he could have would be to work at a convenience store in the middle of nowhere. Or a bathroom attendant at a brothel.”

“That sounds horrific.”

“That’s what I was thinking when I saw Frank’s face last night,” Gerard replies.

“I bet he’s actually attractive though,” Mikey says rolling his eyes. “Hold on, let me check.”

Mikey reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Gerard just stares at him and draws his eyebrows together, because he doesn’t know what the hell Mikey’s doing.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m assuming he’s got a Facebook page or something. I want to know what he looks like nowadays. I just know he’s hot from the way you’re acting.”

“You’re supposed to be the straight one.”

“I’m a little bendy,” Mikey replies with a shrug.

“That was more information than I needed,” Gerard shakes his head, and tries to look over at his phone, but Mikey just pushes him away with a painful poke in the shoulder. “You’re an ass.”

“Gerard, I’m not going to have a philosophical conversation with you about the Lord of the Rings if you insult me before we’ve even put the movie in.”

“But I haven’t marathoned these in like two months, and I need someone to spew random knowledge about them to,” Gerard groans.

“Which is why you will shut up and let me find some sort of social networking profile of Frank!” Mikey says, “Oh wait, I found him.”

“That was easy.”

“Well it’s not like his name is John Smith.”

“So what do’ya think then?” Gerard asks, trying to sound neutral, but he actually wants to know what Mikey’s opinion of him is, somewhat. It’s not like he cares that Frank is kind of extremely attractive or anything, he just wants to know that he’s not the only one who thinks that. If someone else has a similar opinion, then he won’t feel as guilty about it.

“Yeah, not bad. At least, you wouldn’t kick him out of bed, would you? I mean, he looks better than you at least.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m your brother and you have an obligation to be an asshole towards me.”

“Well yeah, that, and also, he looks way better than you do,” Mikey says matter-of-factly, “Oh, did you know he’s in a band?”

“He’s what?” Gerard asks, trying to rip the phone out of Mikey’s hand.

“Calm your tits, Gerard,” Mikey says, elbowing him away. Mikey’s elbow is kind of like a spear except it doesn’t need to be sharpened. His elbows could seriously kill a man. It also doesn’t help that he has the strongest bones ever. Something to do with drinking milk. His bones are like diamonds, they don’t break. So he’s got these knifelike bones, and the same toothpick figure as David Bowie, which just makes for the deadliest elbows the world has ever seen.

“Mikey!” Gerard complains, “You know how sharp your elbow is, don’t point that thing at me.”

“Then don’t try to take things from me. I won’t tell you anything about Frank if you do that!” Mikey replies.

“Ugh, fine. So tell me all about him,” Gerard says.

Mikey shakes his head, “well he’s in a band.”

“You already said that. What does he do? Or, I mean, play?”

“Guitar,” Mikey says, “But I only know that because we used to hang out. I’d imagine he still does though. Seems logical. He’s got loads of pictures of them on his page.”

“Is his band good?”

“I don’t know, do I? You think it just says that on his page or something? How am I supposed to fucking know?”

“You know all about small bands and shit! How come you didn’t know he was in a band?” Gerard questions.

“Hm, I don’t know. It’s almost like there’s seven billion people on this planet, and thousands of bands, probably thousands just in New York alone.”

“Okay, fine. So you don’t know his band. I bet his band sucks,” Gerard says.

“Yeah, whatever. Bitter are you?”

“No, I just know it’s bound to suck if Frank is in it,” Gerard says.

“You are crazy.”

“I just really hate him okay, what do you want from me?” 

“I couldn’t tell,” Mikey says. “Hey Gerard, don’t you have a thing for band members? You always used to, so you probably do now-”

“I do not have a thing for band members!”

Mikey looks at him skeptically, “Yeah, so I’m just making up all the times you told me you were in love with Morrissey.”

“That’s different,” Gerard answers defensively.

“I don’t have a thing for band members,” Gerard says, “least of all not Frank. So what if he can play the guitar? I can play Tetris with some amount of efficiency!”

“Yeah because a guitar and Tetris are two things that can be compared,” Mikey says with so much sarcasm, Gerard thinks his ears just might bleed.

“Shut up,” Gerard grumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had or have a happy whatever you celebrated or didn't celebrate.


	6. Blind Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're all the same ages so what sue me?

Gerard sits in the middle of a too-dark restaurant waiting, and hoping, that Frank isn’t lying to him about getting him a date. It wouldn’t surprise him, really it wouldn’t, but Gerard did actually manage to find Frank someone and he would feel like an absolute twat if he’d done it while Frank hadn’t. 

It’s been two days since he saw Frank, which means they have 31 days left. Gerard wasted one of them, he’s not going to let another day go by though. Not this time. Today, he will keep an open mind, and hopefully he will actually be meeting someone rather than be stood up.

It wouldn’t technically count as being stood up though if there was never a date to begin with. Frank is an asshole like that. Frank had said his dates’ name was Brendon and that he would probably know him when he saw him. Gerard doesn’t know what that means, but he’ll just wait and hope some guy with hopefully a nice face walks up to him.

This place really is too dark, and Gerard isn’t sure whether you could even classify it as a restaurant. It’s more like a bar that happens to serve food, rather than a restaurant that happens to serve alcohol. 

Gerard avoids the alcohol, instead nervously sipping on a glass of coke, which honestly tastes so watered down by a dozen ice cubes, that it’s mostly just flavored water, but he’s nervous, and it would look weird for him to just bite down on a straw. When he has the glass with him, at least when he bites on the straw he doesn’t look mentally unstable.

It’s not like this Brendon guy is late, it’s just that Gerard doesn’t think he’s coming, so he’s here in the middle of a restaurant when really, he could be at home watching reruns of Iron Chef. He kind of wants to be doing that, but no, he’s not watching dumb cooking shows, he’s absent-mindedly looking at the television screen above the bar counter that has some sports game. Gerard neither knows nor cares what teams are even playing, and he’s honestly not even paying enough attention to tell you what sport it even is.

“You’re Gerard,” someone says behind him, and he turns so fast you’d think he was sitting on a lazy Susan or something.

“I am,” Gerard stutters, and it’s honestly too dark to tell if this guy is attractive or not. His voice is kind of deep, compared to Gerard’s at least it’s very much so, and he’s tall, maybe the same height as him, but that’s about all he can tell at the moment.

“Frank told me to look for the guy who was ugly beyond compare, who had a giant mole on his face and also may or may not have bright red hair,” the guy, who Gerard is assuming is this Brendon guy, says.

“Do I meet the expectations?” Gerard asks.

“He must really hate you,” Brendon says, and Gerard sees him sit down. “You don’t look that bad to me.”

“That’s the best compliment I’ve had all day. I only look kind of bad, but not puke ugly?”

“Nah, not bad,” Brendon says.

“How can you even tell? I don‘t think this place has lightbulbs,” Gerard replies, and he squints at Brendon. He makes out his features, a nose, two eyes, and a mouth, all where they should be, but it’s too grainy to get into much detail. His hair is dark, his attire is unimpressive, and his mouth is somewhat large, and that’s basically all Gerard can tell.

“My eyes are just fantastic, I guess,” Brendon says unenthusiastically, “I am Brendon by the way.”

“I assumed so,” Gerard says.

“Yeah well, I figured I should at least confirm that. So, answer a question for me, would you? The way Frank talked about you made you sound like his first murder victim, so why on earth am I here right now if he hates you so much?”

“I hate him too,” Gerard answers.

“That’s not an answer. Why do you two hate each other so much?”

“We just do,” Gerard shrugs, “We’ve known each other since we were babies, and then Frank turned into an asshole and we’ve hated each other ever since.”

“What did he do?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, it’s been like, how many years since you were kids?”

“Many,” Gerard answers.

“I think you can let it go.”

“I can never let it go! Frank was such a bitch. He literally ruined my little seven year old life, and I haven’t forgiven him for it. Besides, he just got worse with time. Frank’s like milk. He gets all the more sour the more time that passes. Someday, Frank is going to be fifty, if he isn’t murdered before then I mean, and he is going to literally turn into a giant pile of rotting food.”

“And who do you think is going to murder him?” Brendon asks.

“Anyone who knows him the way I do,” Gerard answers.

“Well you must know a completely different person to the one I do.”

“Yeah?” Gerard asks skeptically, “how on earth could anyone that awful have two personalities. Isn’t that, like, mentally unhealthy? I don’t care, I just know that he’s a fuckhead.”

“You two have colorful names for each other.”

“Oh yeah, Frank calls me a shitdick. I call him a nimrod, asshat, pissface, micro penis, scumbag, and piece of shit,” Gerard says matter-of-factly.

“I would love to see you two get into a debate or something,” Brendon grins. “You never told me why I’m here though. If Frank hates you, why on earth would he want us to meet?”

“What? Oh, our moms think we should get married,” Gerard says, “See, Frank and I, we figured ourselves out pretty early on, even though I think a lot of people thought we were just two kids who were goofing around. Anyway, like, I knew I was gay as fuck when I was really young, after Frank and I’s friendship had disbanded, but still pretty quickly. Before then though, we’d sort of been joking around, said we’d marry each other if we hadn’t gotten married by the time we were thirty, and now, well, Frank’s thirtieth birthday is in 31 days.”

“They actually expect you to get married to each other?” Brendon asks, aghast, “I’ve never seen Frank so passionate about anything in all my years of knowing him. He _really_ hates you.”

“He’s passionate about hating me?” Gerard asks, “Cool. Well, they don’t expect us to get married technically if we don’t want to, but they’re both at the end of their ropes with how much we’ve disappointed them. I’m a failure, so is Frank, and now they want us to have little adopted babies together or some shit, because neither of us has found anyone else yet.”

“Yeesh,” Brendon says, “must suck to have your parents on your back like that.”

“It does. So, you’re Frank’s friend then. Would you happen to know what it is that he did that pissed his mom off so much? What makes him a disappointment? Is he a stripper?”

Brendon snorts at the last question and replies, “what does that have to do with anything? Why would you think Frank’s a stripper?”

“That’s my working theory as to why he’s a disappointment. I believe Frank is a gay stripper. Or a porn star,” Gerard states.

“He is neither, I can say that with some amount of certainty.”

“Dammit,” Gerard says, looking frustrated. “So what is it? What’d he do?”

“It’s not important,” Brendon brushes off.

“Yes it is.”

“Uh, well, if Frank didn’t tell you, I probably shouldn’t either.”

“Ugh, fuck. Fine. Whatever, be loyal or whatever. He’s still an asshole,” Gerard says. “So is his band any good?”

“His band? Yeah, uh, they are actually. Or at least, I think so. He’s really wild up on a stage, it’s quite impressive.”

“I wish you’d said they suck,” Gerard says, shaking his head and frowning. 

Gerard realizes about thirty minutes into the date that he hasn’t stopped talking about Frank for one second. He’s a talkative guy as it is, he usually just blabs on and on until someone tells him to stop, but he’s never just talked about one subject for this long. Least of all, not Frank of all subjects. He just can’t stop though.

The minute Gerard realizes he’s still talking about Frank is when he’s telling a story about sophomore year when he and Frank were lab partners in science, and Gerard set fire to his Math notebook. It was actually an accident, Gerard shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near chemicals or heat creating sources. Frank had blamed him for his C in math that trimester though, and things just got worse. He accused Gerard of doing it on purpose, and it’s been nearly fifteen years since that incident occurred, but Gerard really wishes it _had_ been on purpose.

“I cannot believe all I’ve talked about is Frank,” Gerard says, “I don’t even know what you do and I’m totally justifying the way Frank calls me a dick right now, aren’t I?”

“Uh, I mean, its fine. I don’t care. You’re not a dick, necessarily, but I’ve never been so astounded by anyone’s hate for anyone else ever in my entire life,” Brendon admits.

“Well, he’s just, I don’t know. He pushes my buttons, and it’s annoying, because he knows where every goddamn one of my buttons is. He’s such a... god, there’s just no word strong enough for what he is. I just really hate that son of a bitch.”

“I can see that,” Brendon nods.

So Gerard tells himself to commit to this date thing and actually talk to Brendon and get to know who he is. He tells himself, and he really does try. About five minutes later though, he’s talking about Frank. Well, he’s _complaining_ about Frank. He just can’t help it though. Everything Brendon tries to say brings up a memory of Frank and it’s really starting to annoy even Gerard how incapable he is of talking about something interesting.

“So, uh, this has been great and all-”

“But...” Gerard says for him.

“Well, I mean, I just don’t think-”

“Yep, I got it. No need to sugarcoat it. You don’t like me, and that’s fine.”

“Sorry?” Brendon offers.

“Nah, it’s okay. Just promise not to tell Frank how badly this went and I’ll pay for your drinks, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Brendon nods. Then ensues five minutes of them awkwardly trying to figure out how to walk away from each other without being rude, or without doing something stupid. Eventually, Brendon gets sick of the back and forth and he just leaves. Gerard doesn’t mind. He really didn’t like Brendon all that much to begin with. He’s an okay dude, just not a guy who he’d ever care to know romantically.

“Well that was a royal bust,” Gerard sighs to himself as he looks loathingly down at the bill he now has to pay with his absolutely no money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's this cool thing called the comment section, just below this text here, and you can write things so that I know you like the story. You should take a look and test it out.


	7. Stunted Conversations With Frank and Mikey, Starring Gerard Way: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey is either an ironically accurate joker or a psychic.

The last thing Gerard wants to do with his Monday morning is go out and try to find a job. The first thing he wants to do is laze around the house all day and sing along way too loud to music that will have his neighbors slamming on his door and telling him to turn it the fuck down. He can’t do that though because rent is due soon and he has literally no money to pay it.

Despite his hatred for it, Gerard winds up wearing a suit that doesn’t suit him in the slightest, and he has to comb his hair back and he just looks like a mess who’s never used soap. He hasn’t, really, but he doesn’t want to _look_ it.

So a few hours later, Gerard totally bombs an interview because he has bags under his eyes the size of carry-ons, and he just has a bad attitude in general. He doesn’t think much of it, really. He makes his way to his coffee shop, pays for the drink that he really can’t afford and then he sits in the back of the place doodling on the daily newspaper he picked up in the front. He draws a few mustaches and mono-brows on some politicians, and he basically acts like a six year old before his phone starts buzzing at him from his pocket.

He groans, looks down at the caller ID, and then sighs in relief when he sees that it’s Mikey and not Frank. 

“What do you want?” is still what he opens with when he answers the phone. No one actually talks on the phone anymore, how do you pick a phone up?

“I’m glad to hear you’ve retained your peachy attitude over the years,” Mikey replies, “so how was your date with whoever the hell your date was with?”

“He was, like, I don’t know. To be honest, we didn’t talk much about him.”

“What did you talk about then?”

“That’s not important,” Gerard says, “What the fuck do you want?”

“I would appreciate some manners, Gerard.”

“Whatever do you want, darling brother?”

“I do not appreciate the sarcasm,” Mikey says, “are you allergic to kindness?”

“Yes.”

“Well okay. Just wanted to ask if you were doing anything tonight, but that’s more of a formality than anything else, so you’re showing up tonight whether you like it or not.”

“How do you know I don’t have things to do?” Gerard asks. Mikey snorts on the other end like he just told a joke. 

“Well, Gerard. If you can come up with an excuse that I believe than I will let you ditch,” Mikey dares him.

“I have to make an appearance somewhere else,” Gerard says hesitantly.

“Where? A comic book addicts support group? Try again, bro.”

“I have a doctor’s appointment.”

“No way you have an appointment that late, you don’t. Try again.”

“I have to slay a dragon, rescue the princess and return her to the narcissistic king in order to save my home,” Gerard says.

“That is the plot of Shrek.”

“It’s also the plot of my life,” Gerard replies.

“You’re coming,” Mikey tells him.

“Ugh why?”

“Because I said so.”

“You’re not my mom, I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Well no, if I were your mom, I’d make you fuck Frank, but I am above that, so all I’m asking is for you to hang out with me tonight,” Mikey says.

“I’m not going to be able to argue myself out of this one am I?”

“Nope.”

“As long as you pay, I guess I’m in,” Gerard replies.

“Good. So I’m guessing you totally screwed up your interview today then?”

“Is it that obvious?” Gerard asks, picking at the decal on the center of the coffee table mindlessly. He’s probably being rude talking in the middle of the place, but he doesn’t care, and no one is telling him to stop so he’s not going to. Besides, he’s like thirty percent of this places’ revenue so it’s not like they’re going to show him the door. 

“You’re never going to get a job are you?” 

“Thank you for the confidence,” Gerard says, scowling, “I’ll have you know, I am marginalized by the color of my hair.”

“Oh yeah, that’s it. It’s not your unimpressive résumé, lack of any expertise in any particular subject, or bad attitude. No, it’s your hair.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Gerard replies.

“Yeah, whatever. I will see you tonight then. Text you details later.”

“Why are you so adamant to get me to show up anyway? I mean, it’s a Monday night!”

“No questions, just show up.” 

“Whatever,” Gerard says, and the phone clicks and Mikey’s gone. Gerard groans, because, really, he’s never understood a single part of Mikey’s brain. The boy just seems to use a different type of logic than a normal human being. It makes for really entertaining games of Cards Against Humanity, but you should never ever try to have a logical discussion with him. Somehow, he’ll make you believe that geese are celestial beings and you won’t even know how he got you to think it.

Gerard just sort of lounges around for a few hours. He doesn’t have anything else to do. He does some grocery shopping because his refrigerator is starting to smell like a dead camel. 

No one ever told Gerard that when he got older he’d actually have to be in charge of buying groceries. Like that was never something that occurred to him. He literally just assumed that pop tarts would magically appear in the pantry every other week. Then he got older and had the realization that if he wants to make cereal, he has to _buy_ the cereal. No one ever told him he’d have to pay bills either. Like that’s just not okay. And what the fuck is rent? Why does he have to pay to not be homeless? It all seems so grown up, and Gerard is not an adult. He’s a small teenager pretending to know what he’s doing, who just so happens to a have a major case of blue balls. Life is hard.

Gerard winds up in another bar, smaller than the one he was in last night on his abysmal date. He really doesn’t know why he’s here. If only his brother weren’t his best friend he’d be able to get out of things so much easier, but unfortunately, Gerard is not good at making friends. All of his friends are people he regularly pays, like his friends at the coffee shop, or comic book store. Basically, they’re all prostitutes, but like, in a friend way. 

Gerard walks in, and it’s a Monday so there’s barely really anyone there, because people have jobs to go to in the morning. Not Gerard, but some people, he’s sure.

Gerard spots Mikey, he’s not sure how, because the dude is so thin that you can’t even see him from the side. Then he spots the person sitting next to him and he’s about to run away screaming. He really is going to but then Mikey, who has a second set of eyes, Gerard swears it, and he gives him this snakelike expression that makes his gut shrivel up and hide for cover.

Gerard’s body just carries him across the place, he’s not even aware of moving his feet, he just feels them moving for him, and then he’s looking down at Mikey like he’s either going to claw his face off or dismember him. Gerard’s literally going through every episode of every cop show he’s ever seen and looking for the most creative method of murder that he can pull off.

“Gerard, you’ve met Frank,” Mikey says, gesturing to the guy sitting right next to him, who grins up at Gerard, looking smug. 

“How did you even get ahold of him?” Gerard asks.

“Uh, duh,” Mikey says, “I stole your phone.”

“Bitch,” Gerard says.

“So I hear your date sucked,” Frank says, “Which you should really be held accountable for, because Brendon is great.”

“If he’s so great than why don’t _you_ date him?” Gerard snaps, and he sits across from the two of them, wishing very much that someone would just take him out of his misery right now. 

“Well, uh,” Frank scrambles for a comeback but instead he just flips Gerard off.

“Don’t worry, Gerard. His date was just as bad as yours,” Mikey reassures.

“Dude,” Frank says, scowling at Mikey.

“Hey! I am a neutral party.”

“You’re my brother,” Gerard says emphatically.

“Which is precisely why I really should hate you,” Mikey says, “brothers are supposed to hate each other.”

“But ultimately be there for each other at the end of the day,” Gerard reminds him.

“Gerard, I believe you’ve been watching way too many Disney movies. Don’t go pulling no ‘Ohana means family’ shit on me.”

“Why is Frank even here?” Gerard asks, getting distracted by the way Frank keeps looking at him with a vengeance in his eyes.

“Because we were friends in high school and I thought the best time to catch up would be while you two were at each other’s throats. Or should I say, the most _entertaining_ time to catch up.”

“Why are you even friends with Mikey then?” Gerard asks Frank.

“He’s not you, mainly,” Frank says.

“Mikey, I am disowning you. From now on, you will not be a part of my will.”

“Gerard, having a will implies that you could leave me some money after you die. You have no money,” Mikey says, and Frank laughs. Apparently Gerard’s pain and suffering is funny to him.

“Shut up, fuckhead.”

“Make me, shitdick.”

“You could cut the sexual tension with a knife,” Mikey says monotonously. This prompts Gerard to kick Mikey under the table and Frank to elbow him.

“Not funny,” Frank says.

“But oh so true.”

“I am not attracted to Frank!” Gerard says, which he feels like he’s said countless times before.

“No, maybe not romantically, but the both of you find each other hot. I can tell. A guy just knows these sort of things.”

“No, that is not something a guy just _knows_ ,” Frank says.

“But I do know.”

“You know nothing.”

“I know quite a bit about Jack the Ripper. And the Lost City of Atlantis. And sea anemones,” Mikey states in his completely toneless voice so that Gerard’s not even sure if he’s joking around or not. He must be, but then again, this is Mikey. He could confess to a murder to a cops face, and yet you still wouldn’t even be sure if he’s telling the truth. Do not ever, for any reason, play poker with Mikey. Ever. You could play Operation maybe, his hand eye coordination isn’t up to par, but if you play poker with him, prepare to lose your bank account, and the keys to your house.

“You haven’t changed in the slightest have you Mikey?” Frank asks, looking at him and doing his best to ignore Gerard. Gerard’s just trying to ignore the fact that Mikey is fucking right. Like he pinned the nail on the donkey there, because yes, Frank is very attractive, and yes, Gerard hates him, but at the same time, yes, he’s so hot that Gerard has to force himself not to look directly at him for too long.

“Not true. I have more humor now,” he says.

“You have as much humor as the bottom of my shoe,” Gerard says.

“I didn’t know your shoe was so whimsical.”

“Why am I even here?” Gerard asks.

“I wanted to get it on camera when you two kill each other,” Mikey shrugs. “Or start making out. Whichever comes first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So happy new year! I'm very proud of all of you for making it another year. Lets make this a good one full of Fall Out Boy and cheesecake and hot people who want to make out with you.


	8. Stunted Conversations With Frank and Mikey, Starring Gerard Way: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey's plan backfires.

“So someone remind me, why is it that you two hate each other so much? I’m assuming the fact that I am as fantastic as I am may have played a part in why Frank likes me better, but I don’t see why you two have to hate each other so much. Like, seriously, you are both adults, well, I say that loosely as you both act like you’re only six, but you’re still old enough that hating each other over something that happened when you were children seems out of place.”

“We just hate each other, okay?” Gerard says.

“Ah, thank you ever so much for enlightening me,” Mikey says, making a face.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Frank says.

“No, of course not? Because I can’t understand the tribulations between two small children stuck in adult bodies. Who am I to ever come to grips on how idiotic the both of you actually are?”

“He’s just a jerk, okay?” Gerard says.

Frank raises an eyebrow, “Oh now, Gerard, you shouldn’t talk in third person like that. It’s very unsophisticated. I know you’re a jerk, but you can just say it out loud.”

“Bitch,” Gerard murmurs.

“Frank’s right bro, you really shouldn’t be talking in third person like that. You’re never going to get a job if you keep that up.”

“I hate you both. Mikey you promised you’d pay for things?” Gerard says.

“Yeah,” Mikey says, and before he can even ask what Gerard intends to get, he’s calling a waiter over.

About a minute later Gerard has ordered one of each appetizer, six cokes, a bottle of wine, and a Dr. Pepper.

“You deserved that,” Gerard says, grinning after he sends the waiter off.

“That was a mean thing to do.”

“You ambushed me by making me come to a place with my least favorite person. You deserved that. You’re just lucky I didn’t order a more expensive bottle of wine.”

“You’re not even going to drink the fucking wine!” Mikey complains.

“More for you two,” Gerard grins.

“I’m missing something,” Frank says.

“Yeah,” Gerard nods, “it’s called a brain. That must be a bummer, not being able to think for yourself. But at least you identify with the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz. Except, sadly, you’re not as good looking as him.”

“Did you just call a man stuffed with hay attractive?” 

“I just called him more attractive than Frank, but then again, that’s like saying a turnip is more attractive than Frank. It’s just inherently true.” 

“Oh please, Gerard,” Mikey says, “you think Frank is attractive. He thinks you’re attractive. I think chocolate cake is attractive.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is appealing,” Frank says.

“Nope. Attractive. I find chocolate cake attractive. Every time I see chocolate cake I think unspeakable things.”

“He’s seen American Pie one too many times,” Gerard says.

“Chocolate cake is sexy.”

“How can you talk about cake like that when you’re literally made out of pipe cleaners and googley eyes?” Frank asks.

“He eats like a pig. I don’t know where it even goes. I think there’s a vortex in his stomach or something,” Gerard laughs.

Frank snorts, “Probably.”

“I don’t appreciate the way you’re talking about me like I’m not even here.”

“I didn’t even realize you _were_ here,” Gerard says, “You probably fall into sofa cushions and stuff.”

Frank nods, “Mikey, tell me, have you ever accidentally gotten sucked into an escalator?”

“Seriously?” Mikey asks. “You’re teaming up on me? You two? Seriously? The two people who hate each other so much they see spots when they look at each other are actually teaming up on me?”

“What size of clothes do you wear Mikey?” Gerard asks, “A boys small? Or do you have to get it custom made because shirts just fall off your shoulders?”

“Shut up,” Mikey groans.

“No, see I think that he probably just hits up toy stores and borrows clothes off of Ken dolls.”

“I seriously thought that inviting you two to sit at the same table would mean that you’d insult each other. I wasn’t expecting the two of you to make fun of me!” Mikey says.

“Well, that’s just what you get for luring me here under false pretenses.” 

“Seriously? You’ve already spent like fifty bucks of my money on greasy appetizers and now you’re blaming me?”

“You should’ve gotten extra fries,” Frank says, “I like fries.”

“Me too, it’s not too late. You want something to drink? It’s on Mikey,” Gerard says, and Frank just smirks and looks at Mikey beside him who looks like he’s seriously reevaluating his life choices.

“Now that I think of it-”

“No, Frank,” Mikey interjects.

“I didn’t even-”

“No, Frank.”

“But-”

“No, Frank.”

“You’re not even letting me talk!” Frank says.

“Alright, Frank,” Mikey says, “say what you will.”

“Well I just-”

“No, Frank.”

“Fucking hell,” Frank groans.

“Michael Way, you need to learn to think things through. Before inviting me to a bar to see me and Frank fighting, just remember who you’re messing with. Maybe next time, a park. I can’t bankrupt you at a park.”

“Yes you can,” Frank says, “just steal his wallet and throw it at a duck.”

“If I steal his wallet, I’m not going to waste the effort by throwing it at a duck. Nah, I’m going to move to Australia or something. Buy a typewriter. Get myself a small bird,” Gerard says.

“Maybe invest in a deodorant company,” Frank suggests.

“How much money do you think I have?” Mikey asks.

“Apparently enough to own a small bird, a typewriter, a home in Australia and stock in a deodorant company,” Frank says.

“Okay, I could maybe get you the typewriter and the bird, but I don’t think I’ve got the cash to even pay for a ticket to Australia,” Mikey says.

“Well maybe we can negotiate about trading that typewriter for the ticket to Australia,” Gerard suggests.

“You’re not going to Australia.”

“Please?” Gerard asks.

“No.”

“What about me?” Frank asks.

“I’m not buying you a ticket to Australia?”

“How about you buy me a ticket half way to Australia?”

“Um, I think that would end you somewhere in the middle of the ocean.” 

“That’s precisely where you should send Frank!” Gerard exclaims, “And when you drop him off, you should tie an anchor to him.”

“See, that’s what I was looking for. I was looking for you two to make fun of each other and make threats of ugly demise, but no, you got focused on me. That’s not fun. I don’t want that.”

“Mikey, you look like a squirrel,” Gerard says.

“Mikey, you look like a bowl of noodles,” Frank adds.

“Mikey, you smell like you fell in a sewer.”

“Mikey, you’re elbows are sharper than you are.”

“Mikey, looking at you makes me want to chuck myself off a cliff.”

“Mikey-”

“That is enough!” Mikey shrieks, a little too loudly.

“You were literally begging us to do that,” Gerard says.

“This has greatly backfired on me,” Mikey says.

“Mikey, you constantly have the facial expression like you just ate pencil shavings,” Frank says.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Mikey says.

“It’s never enough,” Gerard responds. 

“Insult each other some more!” Mikey groans, like he’s a two year old asking for more candy. Gerard raises an eyebrow at him and Frank just shakes his head like he’s disappointed in how quickly they managed to unravel Mikey.

“I think that’s the first thing we’ve found in common,” Frank says, “we both like to make fun of Mikey.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s necessarily a favorite pastime of mine, it’s just really easy. I have so much dirt on Mikes. I mean, I’ve known him for his whole life so obviously I know all the things that make him want to crawl under a rock, but seriously, he’s easy to make fun of.” 

“Oh really?” Mikey says, looking like he’s got a little bit of Satan in his eye, “when Gerard was twelve he walked into a girl’s locker room by mistake and got chased out by a grandma.”

“Seriously? You wanna play this game, Mikey? Well fine, Mikey made a new friend once and he went over to their house to play hide and go seek, and he walked into the friends’ mom’s room while she was about to take a shower. He then got reprimanded for being a pervert, and was never invited to that house ever again.”

“A lot of your embarrassing stories seem to involve naked women,” Frank notes.

“Gerard tried to impress a guy he liked when he was rollerblading by his house, but he wasn’t looking where he was going so he smacked into their car and broke the window.”

“Oh yeah? Well Mikey tried to impress a girl _he_ liked, and not-so-casually fell down a flight of stairs before he was taken to the nurse with a bloody nose.”

“Gerard’s first boyfriend isn’t even a dude anymore!”

“Hey!” Gerard snaps, “Ellie is much happier now, thank you very much. I have no animosity towards her for that. Besides, we were never serious.”

“Elliot was your first kiss!”

“Actually, I was Gerard’s first kiss,” Frank says.

“You were?” Gerard asks.

“You can’t tell me you don’t remember when we kissed under the mistletoe,” Frank says, looking at Gerard disbelievingly.

He thinks for a moment before he does actually recall that and then he cringes. “Oh god, my first kiss was with Frank. Ew.”

“How come I’ve never heard of this?” Mikey asks.

“You were like two, you wouldn’t remember,” Gerard brushes him off, “Just, ugh, gross.”

“You’re not going to tell me that you’re afraid I have cooties or something,” Frank says, looking entirely unimpressed with how childish Gerard is.

“Well, don’t you?” Gerard asks.

“Oh grow up.”

Mikey decides to interrupt, “Gerard butt dialed me once while he had, uh, ‘company.’”

“Mikey!” Gerard says, actually turning a little pink at that one, because all the other things had been about fifteen years ago, but that last one was like, a couple of months ago. In his defense though, that guy was really hot, and everything other than the whole accidentally butt dialing his brother while in the process of being fucked was great.

“It’s true,” Mikey shrugs.

“Sometimes I wish I had had siblings, but then other times...” Frank drifts off.

“Mikey’s last girlfriend broke up with him by text.”

“Dude!”

“Now we’re even!” Gerard says.

“Your family is so dysfunctional I don’t even have the words,” Frank shakes his head.

“Oh fuck off, Iero,” Gerard says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I caught the plague or something, I'm just very ill, and I'm sorry that I haven't updated anything in a while.


	9. Hot... and Gross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think the best way to describe this chapter is for you to fucking read it. How's that for a summary?

“Why the fuck are you calling me? I said no calling me! I made that explicitly clear. Do you really want me to dismember you?” 

“Okay first of all, ew,” Frank says, “second of all, different circumstances, I figured I should call.”

“There is literally never a good reason to call me. Never. Not ever. You could call anyone else in the world and it would be a good idea, but no. Do not call me,” Gerard says. He might have repeated that a few too many times.

“You’re unbearable,” Frank says, “so whatever, I have a friend who’s somehow interested in meeting you even though I told him about you with as much honesty as I could possibly muster, so basically, I told him that you look like the creature of the black lagoon. That didn’t work, so maybe he’s mentally unstable.”

“Well aren’t you a doll,” Gerard says. “But I haven’t had as much luck in finding anyone who could possibly put up with you, so it looks like you’re going to be alone tonight like you are most other nights. Really the screening process would all be so much quicker if I could just show them a picture of you and then wait for the gagging and/or the running away screaming.” 

“That wouldn’t be their reaction,” Frank says, “I don’t know, if I were someone else, I would want to get in my pants too.”

“You’re disgusting. You’ve already spent enough of your life falling in love with yourself in mirrors, you could at least try to act modest about it.”

“Right so, I want to get off the phone with you really soon, because talking to you is making me lose some IQ points.”

“Oh no. Anymore and you’re intelligence will be less than the number of arms you have,” Gerard says.

“Still more than you. You know I hear it was a record breaking discovery to have someone’s IQ be in the negative digits. I’ve got to hand it to you on that one. I always thought you’d break records.”

“Just tell me what it is you have to tell me, okay?” Gerard says.

“So the guy I’m setting you up with is three years sober and he doesn’t want to meet at a bar, so I figured you could just call him and plan it yourself, because I don’t really give a shit.”

“Alright fine, just give me his number then.”

“I gave yours to him already, expect him to call.”

“Is he pretty?” Gerard asks.

“I... you’re a weirdo. I guess so?” Frank says.

“Good,” Gerard replies, “I deserve pretty.”

“You’re so narcissistic.”

“Go away. Just let me try to find someone quickly, okay? I don’t know how many of my friends I’m willing to lose because of how bad a date you are. Like seriously, I’d hate me too if I was forced to go on a date with someone as ugly, self-involved, untalented, idiotic, and immature as you.”

Frank makes a noise on the other end of the phone then says, “You probably researched for several hours just to figure out what those words even mean.”

“Fuckhead.”

“Back at ya,” Frank spits.

“Just, hang up so I can get back to slamming my head against a wall, which, by the way, is a whole lot less painful than having to listen to your whiney little voice.”

“You’re probably not smart enough to figure out that hitting your head against the wall isn’t how you complete routine tasks,” Frank responds.

“Someday you’re going to be walking down the street and be pushed in front of a bus, Frank, and I, I am just going to laugh and spit on your little pancake self.”

“I’m hanging up,” Frank says, and then the phone clicks.

“Thank fucking god,” Gerard says to himself. 

He looks around at his painfully unexciting apartment and mutters to himself how much he hates Frank. If his walls had ears they’d probably tell him to shut up already about this Frank guy and just kill him. Frank isn’t worth a lifelong prison sentence though. He wouldn’t waste the rest of his life just to kill Frank. That would make him all the more special, and Frank’s life just isn’t that important to him that he’s willing to risk his own freedom. Now if only there were a way to take him on a trip to Antarctica and ‘accidentally’ push him off an iceberg.

Gerard falls over the back of his couch lazily, and puts his phone on the coffee table. The coffee table is really just a hunk of wood at this point, because it’s so fucked over and old that it is definitely not classifiable as furniture anymore.

The apartment around him rattles as the subway passes by his window and he yells at it, because that’s just how you talk to a train. You yell at it. It can’t hear you, but that’s just the way things work. Gerard’s logic is not up to par. He threw away any sense of actual logic back in tenth grade math though. 

Gerard flicks through channels, going past a million different reality shows which have about as much reality in them as Star Trek, before he settles on some cooking show with a far too perky host making something that looks like it should be put in the Louvre rather than eaten.

So when the guy, whose name Gerard doesn’t remember, and doesn’t even care that he doesn’t recall it, calls him, he almost forgets to answer the phone. He’s not even positive if Frank gave him a name to work with. He probably did, but Gerard wasn’t paying any real attention to it.

Gerard basically just says ‘whatever’ or ‘okay’ to whatever the guys says. He’s not really paying attention. Something about meeting tonight, but not at a bar. Then something about going to Gerard’s place and he’s like ‘fine whatever,’ because he really doesn’t care. He’s more interested in how the lady on the screen is going to turn that nasty looking asparagus into something edible that ‘the whole family can enjoy.’

When the guy asks him if he’s paying attention to a word he says, Gerard replies with ‘I’m sorry, what was that?’ Basically, he ends up ruining the date before it’s even started. Eventually the guy gets tired of trying to handle how uninterested Gerard is and he just hangs up. It’s at that point that Gerard realizes that he fucked up quite a bit there, and he groans, because, wow, seriously? This was all basically his idea in the first place and he’s now completely blowing off the dates Frank sets him up on? He’s an idiot.

Gerard doesn’t know what to do now. Half an hour ago he’d been talking to Frank and tried to be all haughty and now he just blew a date that hadn’t even happened yet. That has got to be a record, no one has ever messed up a date that quickly before. He doesn’t even know the guy’s name who he just totally missed his chance with. Frank is going to give him shit for this.

He decides to just screw it and he picks himself up from the couch, walks around singing show tunes incredibly loudly for about fifteen minutes, stomps on the floor when his neighbors downstairs seem not to appreciate how loud his singing is, and then he starts to make his way to the bottom of the bag of potato chips in his kitchen. Gerard and time management compute about as well as Gerard and logic. So, not at all.

By the time it’s about seven at night, Gerard is tired of doing nothing all day. He’s also kind of tired of thinking about Frank. He tries to push the man out of his head, but it’s not working in the slightest. 

Why couldn’t Frank have been uglier? Everything in his life would have been so much easier if Frank had been ugly. If only he’d just gotten the bad genetics passed down to him than Gerard wouldn’t be having this problem. His problem is that Frank is hot, which sucks, because usually Gerard doesn’t feel guilty about finding people hot, but when it’s Frank, it just feels wrong. The last person on the planet Gerard want’s to find hot is Frank. He’s just so gross, and dumb, and stupid, and _hot_.

Gerard just growls, paces around his apartment, which isn’t big enough to do any real pacing in the first place, before he falls on top of his bed with a loud huff.

“Why couldn’t Frank look like a walrus?” Gerard asks the ceiling. The ceiling doesn’t respond, because Gerard is stupid and he’s talking to inanimate objects.

It really is a dilemma. Gerard can’t seem to get past it. Frank is so attractive and it’s so fucking annoying. He can’t just strum one off thinking about Frank and then pretend it never happened, because how could he ever look the guy in the eye ever again? Answer, he couldn’t. It’s not like he intends to ever have to see Frank again or anything, but really, he wouldn’t even get any sleep.

Then Gerard’s mind goes even further and now he’s thinking about what it would be like, not just to picture Frank, but oh god, what if Frank was there _with_ him. That image sends Gerard into a mixture between a shiver, a gag, and a moan, because, really, he’s still a teenage boy on the inside. Just thinking about it is gross. But hot. But gross. Mostly hot. But also gross.

Frank though. This is Frank he’s thinking about. This is the boy who used to write ‘fuck you, Gerard’ on little post-it notes and leave them in his locker. This is the guy who put glue in his hair. This is the guy who used to trip him in the school halls whenever he got the chance. This is the guy who threw eggs at Gerard’s window once. He can’t think of Frank like that, it’s wrong. He knows it’s wrong. He knows it’s so far past wrong that you’d need to create a whole new language just to be able to enunciate how wrong it actually is.

But it’s also so fucking exciting to think about. Gerard tells himself he doesn’t feel that. Doesn’t feel a sort of curiosity at the bottom of his stomach. He tells himself that it’s all in his head, that he doesn’t want to picture Frank and that he’s just getting sick. He tells himself to picture Frank being dropped off a cliff, or being mauled by lions. That’s a nice picture and all, but really... Frank naked?

“Nonononononononononono,” Gerard says, pulling himself up into a sitting position on his bed. He’s not thinking any of these things, he can’t be. He tells his brain that he’s not thinking about all that, but, by telling himself to stop, he’s only picturing things more clearly.

This is really very inconvenient.

Gerard groans, and just puts his face in his hands. He looks down between his legs to confirm a suspicion that he was already pretty sure about in the first place, and then he falls back on the bed again.

“Not good,” Gerard mutters to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe you should leave a comment so that you can receive my undying love?


	10. Impure Thoughts On High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're officially into the double digits of chapters. I feel like I'm in a committed relationship with you guys now.

So it’s about seven in the morning when Gerard’s phone starts ringing. He groans out a long, and unintelligible cuss at it, before he groggily reaches for the nightstand and tries to blink away the blurriness in his eyes long enough to read the caller ID. His body is not allowing him to do that though so he just ends up staring at a blurry, vaguely blue light for about thirty seconds before he decides it’s better to answer it then to let it go to voicemail. 

His voice sounds sleep-filled and hoarse when he picks up the phone, and it’s more of a mumble than an actual greeting.

“Why the fuck did you blow my guy off yesterday?” is what Gerard’s met with from a very angry sounding voice. Now, in the morning, Gerard is very stupid, and he is very bad at recognizing anything. Sometimes he doesn’t even figure out that he’s awake until an hour after he’s pulled himself out of bed. Usually it takes a cup of coffee, a piss, and something to eat before he’s ready to socialize with anything.

“Um?” Gerard says, because he doesn’t know who the hell he’s talking to, and he also doesn’t remember what his own name is right now. He knows one thing and that is that he’s craving caffeine.

“Gerard, you’d better give me a straight answer here. This was your fucking plan after all and here you are, completely blowing off a guy who I set you up with!”

Gerard blinks a few times with the new information. His name is Gerard. Yeah, that sounds familiar. Gerard. 

He is Gerard. He’s in bed. He’s not wearing pants. Wait, why isn’t he wearing pants?

“Oh fuck,” Gerard says, and he springs up into a sitting position so fast that you’d think he’s on strings. “Fucking hell. Oh fuck. Fuck!”

“What are you on about?” the person asks. Gerard now recognizes that voice to belong to Frank.

Frank is the one who.... yeah, fuck Gerard’s life.

“Fuck,” is all Gerard says, as he rubs the temple of his forehead, hoping that if he pretends nothing happened last night than nothing actually did.

“What’s your explanation then, Gerard? Why’d you act like a jerk to the guy I set you up with? I mean, I get that you’re a jerk anyhow, I’ve embraced that knowledge, but you could have at least been cordial about it, but no, you went and ruined it. You shot the horse before it was even out of the gate and all you have to say is ‘fuck’?” Frank says.

“No, that’s not it, it’s-” Gerard stops himself, because he can’t tell a soul what happened last night, not a single person, but if there’s one person he _especially_ can’t tell, it’s Frank.

“What? You going to try to defend yourself?” 

“You know what, never mind. Why are you awake? It’s seven in the morning?” Gerard groans as he looks at the clock across the room from him.

“I have a flexible sleeping schedule because of my band. That’s not the point, why are we talking about me? You’ve already spoiled this date, he doesn’t want to even attempt to go out with you, so great going Gerard, you fucked up.”

“Ugh whatever,” Gerard says. He almost said sorry until he realized that he was conversing with Frank, and he is not going to say sorry to Frank unless he’s apologizing for how unfortunate it is that Frank is the owner of such a horrific face. Except it’s a really nice face. A really really nice face. A face that Gerard was thinking about last night when he-

“I don’t even know why I bother setting you up in the first place. I mean, only one of us needs to find someone before my birthday, and it’s obviously not going to be you.”

“Asshole,” Gerard replies, “How many days do we have again?”

“Twenty eight,” Frank says almost immediately. “You’ve already wasted five of them by being a lazy ass and not fucking doing anything.”

“I’m the lazy one?” Gerard asks, though he can’t really argue on that one. He is pretty lazy, but Frank does not need to know that.

“Yes. You are the lazy one.”

“You’re stupid.”

“You’re stupider!” Frank counteracts.

“That’s such a stupid comeback. Next thing you know, you’ll be calling me a butt face.”

“Well you _are_ a butt face.” 

“Snot breath,” Gerard replies.

“Poo head,” Frank says.

“Used tampon,” Gerard says, a bit louder than he’d anticipated.

“Gross.”

“Just like you’re face!”

Frank makes a noise on the other end like a disappointed horse, “that’s seriously the best you can come up with? We both know you like my face, give up the charade!”

Gerard turns pale for a second thinking that Frank knows. Frank’s got like a sixth sense or something, and he knows what happened last night. Then Gerard calms his breathing when he realizes he’s being stupid. No way does Frank actually know a damn thing.

Now Mikey on the other hand, he might want to avoid. Mikey really does have some extra sense to him, he’s freaky good at reading people’s emotions which is weird because he really doesn’t have that many emotions himself. Mikey is probably meant to be a superhero in some alternate universe but he got switched up and accidentally came to this universe instead. Basically, he’s Professor X, but with more hair. 

Gerard almost forgot where he is right now and when he snaps himself back to reality he doesn’t know how to make a comeback. Obviously he’s going to have to lie and tell Frank that he thinks he’s ugly, but he’s all nervous now.

“In your dreams, Iero,” he says, and that sounds vague enough that it should suffice. “Now hang up will you, I have anything and everything else to do that doesn’t include talking to you?”

“What you really need to do is find me a fucking date, shitdick.” 

“It’s going to take me a while, jeez! What, do you think eligible bachelors grow on trees, or something?”

“I bet all the guys you know are ugly. You attract people of your own kind,” Frank says.

“If that’s true than you’d think I’d be surrounded with hot Italian men, but sadly I am not.”

“Well that’s because I’m in my apartment, and the last place I’d ever go is to yours.”

“Please, Frank,” Gerard says, “you are many things. Annoying, boring, dumb, whiney, stubborn, and pigheaded, but one thing you are not is hot.”

“Gerard, don’t you know lying is a sin?”

“Don’t you know pride is a sin too?”

“Go to hell,” Frank responds.

“I can’t, I don’t want to have to spend eternity with you!” Gerard answers, “I’d rather be strapped to a bed of nails or beaten to death with a blunt object than see you for the rest of forever.”

“You’re insufferable,” Frank says.

“The longer you insult me the more likely you are to have to deal with me for the rest of your life,” Gerard reminds him.

“Okay let’s get this one things straight, Gerard. I would take a million years of being scolded by my mother over marrying you any day. Hell, I would accept being tortured endlessly for a million years over being married to you for five minutes.”

“I’m glad you put it into words for me,” Gerard says, and then he cringes. Okay, so obviously he’d never admit it, but he honestly isn’t sure which he’d prefer. He’s honestly not sure that being scolded by his mother every single second she can is any better than being married to Frank. Now obviously Frank is unbearable and irritating, but still, he’s eye candy. At the very least he’s the kind of person you’d be able to show off at office Christmas parties, and brag to everyone whose cubicles are adjacent to yours that your spouse is prettier. That is of course assuming that Gerard had a job.

If he only had a job that he could actually hold down, then his mother wouldn’t be disappointed, and he wouldn’t have felt pressured to talk to Frank, and he wouldn’t have thought about how hot Frank is, and he wouldn’t have jerked off thinking about how fucking attractive he is.

Gerard still can’t help but wonder what on earth it is that Frank did to disappoint his mom. Surely the fact that he’s in a band can’t be it. Gerard’s pretty much come to the conclusion that his band is his job, because he seems to have a lot of free time which he wouldn’t have in a normal nine-to-five job. It must be a pretty damn good band to sustain him. That, or maybe he had a rich uncle who passed away recently or something. Maybe he hits up Atlantic City really often and has really good luck.

“I’m just gonna...” Gerard drifts off, forgetting what he was about to say. “Find you a date. Clear your schedule up for tonight.”

“Can’t,” Frank says, “just make sure the date is over before eight.”

“Well that’s probably good because you wouldn’t be able to get laid anyway.” 

“Do you seriously think I have any trouble getting laid, Gerard?” Frank asks incredulously, which makes Gerard frown, because the way that Frank says it makes it sound like he’s talking about brushing his teeth. Gerard isn’t exactly bad or unappealing, but Frank is making himself out to be like a fucking dude magnet, but if that were the case, he wouldn’t still be single.

“Oh Frank, I thought you adamantly denied that you weren’t a prostitute,” Gerard says, smirking to himself.

“Fuck you,” Frank says. “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous of what? The fact that you’re a whore?” Gerard asks. Gerard almost never even uses that word, but he’s on a roll here. He’s actually winding Frank up.

“I am not!” Frank says, getting defensive.

“Whatever you say,” Gerard says, letting his words come out as sarcastically as he can make them.

"Dude," Frank groans, "I'm just a fucking bartender! I don't know where you come with all these wild fucking ideas. Just, ugh, stop being such a sloth and get me a date!"

"Fine," Gerard says bitingly, rolling his eyes. Come to think of it, though, bar tending makes sense given the hours he's usually free.

“Fine,” Frank answers and then the line goes dead.

Gerard lets out a long breath and whimpers a little bit. He’s not sure how he managed not to explode throughout that conversation, but it’s over now which is a mercy at least.

Why does it bother him if Frank does have a lot of sex? Frank can have as much sex as he wants, that’s not Gerard’s business. That means he’s just probably really _good_ at it.

“Stop that,” Gerard says, whacking himself on the head, because he’s starting to imagine it now, and he can’t allow that. The number of impure thoughts he has right now, though, it’s just getting ridiculous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment? Please?


	11. [Insert Whimsical Chapter Title]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Insert summary making a joke about how lazy I am and how I hate writing summaries]

After seven hours of scrambling to find someone who is halfway decent and also available, Gerard finally finds someone that might be able to put up with Frank. It’s hard finding people who are as attractive as him though, because it’s not like Gerard has Joseph Gordon-Levitt on speed dial. He wishes, but unfortunately no such luck. 

So the evening comes and then it goes. Frank sends him a text saying that this potential was about as interesting as a thumb tack and that he needs to try harder. Gerard calls him some creative insult which Frank than combats, and it’s all very regular.

Wednesday turns into Thursday. Thursday turns into Friday, and an ever deepening dread fills his gut when he realizes that they only have twenty six more days. He’s so exhausted with this whole ordeal though, and Gerard just really wants to go out and get himself laid. That’s what he wants. That’s it. 

He’s not asking for much. All he requests is some disposable guy to fuck to take his mind off of Frank. Or maybe he can find a really hot guy who ends up falling in love with him and all this shit can be put into his rearview mirror. That would be nice.

He really needs a break. He needs a break from the insults and the deprivation. He needs a break from Frank, and from his joblessness. He just needs to take a vacation from his life.

“Mikey,” Gerard groans when he refuses to go with him. Something about not needing to have the visual of his brother trying to seduce anything with a pulse. To be fair, he does have a point.

“Go away,” Mikey says, shooing him out of his apartment.

“Why?” Gerard asks, “You’re not doing anything tonight!”

“I don’t want you to think I’m just always free on a Friday night to hang out with you. I have a life too!”

“No you don’t! Since when?”

“Just get out,” Mikey replies, about as whiney in tone as Gerard. 

“What if I give you incentive?” Gerard asks.

“What kind of incentive?” Mikey asks, which is his way of saying ‘I’m listening.’

“I don’t know. What do you want?” Gerard asks, “A pony, a dinosaur, a Charizard, a yellow submarine?”

“Gerard, you don’t even have enough money to print out a piece of paper with those four things written on it.”

“Ugh, well what do you want then?” Gerard implores.

“Well,” Mikey says in a tone that scares the shit out of Gerard over what he’s about to say next. “You know Frank?”

“Oh god, what is about to come out of your mouth?” Gerard asks, looking panicked.

“If you let me invite him, then I will come along.”

“Mikey!” Gerard says obnoxiously, “you can’t be serious. You know I hate him. Why would I want to spend any time at all with him?”

“Well, my reasoning is that you totally have the hots for him, right? So my guess is that if you two spend enough time with each other, one of you is going to make a move, and then some shit happens, and I get to be best man at your wedding!”

“You have got to be kidding. I hate him. No, I _loathe_ him. You hear me, Mikes? I loathe him. Like, whenever I see him I just wanna, like, rip-”

“His clothes off?” Mikey suggests, and Gerard hits him in the arm.

“No! Not rip his clothes off. I was going to say I want to rip his heart out and throw it against a wall.”

“Yeah whatever, so do we have a deal or not?”

“Ugh, Mikey! I just want to go out and have sex. It’s a Friday night, I feel like I deserve to just go crazy for a night. The last thing I need is for Frank to be on my shoulder badmouthing me to everyone I meet,” Gerard says. He really doesn’t know how to tell Mikey that he’s not dicking around here, and honestly just wants a day off. There’s no way to translate his thoughts into words. He wants to just be someone else for just tonight, and that’s all he’s asking for. That’s it. Mikey can’t understand him unless they’re conversation is filled with sarcasm though.

“Gerard, how about you not tell me about your sexual promiscuity and I promise not to tell you about mine. Okay? Okay. Why do you need me to tag along?”

He’s not sure how to say that he doesn’t trust himself in a bar alone while he’s feeling all moody. That’s only going to make Mikey worry about him, and that’s only going to make him more annoyed and desperate. Gerard thinks quickly and tries to come up with anything else to deflect the real answer to Mikey’s question.

“Do you know how sad it is to go to a bar all alone?” 

“Very, evidently,” Mikey says, rolling his eyes. 

“Just please come with me?”

“Like I said, only if you let me invite Frank,” Mikey says, crossing his arms obdurately. 

“Jeez, I hate you. Fine. Invite him, what do I care,” Gerard says, raising his hands up, as if in defeat. It shouldn’t be too bad having Frank there though. At least he can have the chance to prove that he’s not totally undesirable. He can be alluring. Kind of. Well, he’ll try his best. This is one time where he really can’t fuck things up, though. He will never hear the end of it. Frank will literally haunt him in the afterlife just to make fun of him, assuming that Gerard kills him because of that very thing.

Mikey ends up calling Frank, Gerard just scowling the whole time, and he honestly doesn’t know how his plans got practically derailed so quickly. Mikey’s just a prick. Gerard decided that much twenty years ago, but it’s even more relevant now.

“Yep, he’s free,” Mikey says, “He doesn’t think you can score, and he wants to see you wash out.”

“You gave him details?”

“Yep. I told Frank that you were massively in love with him and that you wanted to get laid to take your mind off of the soul eating truth of how much you want him. He said ‘I know.’”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Well now that we’ve settled that,” Gerard says, making his way for the door. 

A cab ride, several dozen insults, and a far too deep conversation about the science of the Death Star later, they end up in front of their destination.

“Oh come on! You never told me we were going to a gay bar!” Mikey says. “Gerard!”

“What? Where did you expect us to go? I am gay, dumbass. I gay regularly. Or, no, that’s not what I mean. Oh it doesn’t matter. We’re here now, it’s too late to turn back.”

“No it’s not,” Mikey tries to turn away but Gerard grabs him by the hood of his sweatshirt, almost choking him on the fabric. “Come on! Fuck you, Way.”

“Okay, considering you and I have the same name, Mikey, that insult was not very well thought out.”

“Fuck you and your grammar policing. Let go of my sweatshirt.”

“Fine,” Gerard says, and he lets go, making Mikey almost trip backwards, but he steadies himself and then rolls his eyes at Gerard. That’s something he’s very good at. Mikey has mastered the art of the eye roll. 

“We’re going in?” Mikey asks.

“No, we’re just going to stand outside all night and be creepy,” Gerard answers sarcastically.

“A simple ‘yes’ would have sufficed.”

Gerard just pulls Mikey into the building, because the wind is starting to pick up and he isn’t wearing a jacket. 

There’s something really familiar about every single bar in New York City, and they’re very bland. Basically, each one is the same. There’s nothing all that interesting about them. The lighting is too dark, it’s often tinted to a different color. There’s a smell of beer and testosterone in the air, and the music is playing either way too loudly, or from a shitty PA system. It’s always techno music too, which is weird, because no one likes techno music. Well, robots maybe, but no one actually _likes_ techno music. 

“When is Frank getting here then?” Gerard asks.

“Like five minutes ago, what took you so long?” someone says behind them, and Gerard almost jumps up in shock.

“Gross,” Gerard says.

“Well thanks a lot, Gee.”

“It’s Gerard, fuckhead. I know it’s tricky, having that extra second syllable and all, but I figured you could at least get a hang of that much,” He responds.

“Oh the sweet smell of unadulterated hatred,” Mikey says. “There really is nothing like it in the world.”

“Go away,” Gerard says, slumping off to the other side of the room. 

Gerard hears Mikey quietly say to Frank just before they’re out of ear shot, “how much do you wanna bet that he’ll strike out?”

Gerard flips him off behind his back, and makes a plan to get himself a coke or something. He’s not sure why though, but any form of soda you buy at a bar or a restaurant is always infinitely more disgusting than the shit lying in your refrigerator. It’s really flat and watered down, even if you literally get it from a can. There’s probably some science behind that, or maybe it’s in his head, but seriously, it gets annoying really quickly.

Gerard is in the middle of figuring out whether or not he’s attracted to this one guy with a fauxhawk who’s trying to flirt with him when Frank comes up behind him and decides to sabotage whatever the hell connection he’s trying to make.

“Hi Gerard!” Frank says in a chipper tone that is ill-suited for whatever he’s come over here to say, and Gerard makes a loud screeching sound when he hears Frank’s voice.

“What the fuck do you want?” Gerard asks.

“Who is this?” the fauxhawk asks.

“Oh, Gerard didn’t mention me?” Frank asks, “I’m his betrothed.” 

“Fuck off, Frank!” Gerard says loudly.

“You’re engaged?” the fauxhawk questions further.

“No!” Gerard assures.

“Oh don’t be silly, Gerard. You’ve been engaged for nearly twenty five years, you’d think it would have sunk in by now.”

“Frank, get the fuck away from me,” Gerard says, shrugging Frank’s hand off of his arm where he’d just put it. 

“Wait how old are you?” the fauxhawk asks, which is a valid question considering Frank’s words, but seriously, how can the fauxhawk be stupid enough to think that Frank in anyway shape or form is with him.

“He’s a vampire, that’s why he’s so pale. I think he lost track of his age a few millennia ago.”

“Seriously, Frank? I will feed your rotting carcass to an alligator if you don’t shut up and get out of my face.”

“I’m just going to leave you two alone then,” the fauxhawk says, and Gerard turns practically purple in the face with anger at Frank. He spins himself around to look at Frank who is devastatingly short compared to everyone around him.

“That was a real dick move, Frank,” Gerard spits at him.

“Oh no, are we having our first fight as a couple?” Frank says stalely.

“Frank, our first fight was in third grade when you put paint in my hat,” Gerard says.

“Okay, first of all, that was second grade, not third grade. Second of all, I never put glue in your hat,” Frank replies.

“Oh yeah right, stick to that story,” Gerard says, rolling his eyes.

Frank shrugs, like he’s giving up trying to defend himself, while Gerard asks a bartender for another coke.

“Wow, seriously? What sort of guy goes out with the intention to get laid and still manages to be a buzzkill?” 

“The sort of guy who’s been sober for two years, but I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Gerard says, completely fed up with how much Frank misjudges him. Seriously, he knows they hate each other, and he knows Frank is an asshole, but he’s honestly starting to get sick of him being right there all the time. It’s only been a week! It’s been a _week_. They’ve been in contact for the first time after over ten years, and already Frank is undermining him. He’s already getting on his nerves to the most absurd caliber, and Gerard just wants a break from this.

He wants a break of Frank’s little voice constantly inside his head whispering insults at him, and he’s sick of the pressure on his shoulders like he’s Atlas holding the world up.

All Gerard is asking for is to have this night to himself, to pretend that he’s not attracted to Frank, to pretend that his life is normal, and to pretend, even if only for a little while, that not everyone is disappointed in him. He knows they are, of course he does, because Gerard isn’t blind. Everyone thinks he’s a failure, and while he can put up with that to some degree, it’s still suffocating him. Even Mikey is looking down on him, and he’s sick of it. He expects that from Frank, but for god sake, even his brother, his best friend, thinks he’s washed up. 

He just needs a fucking break, but no, Mikey just had to go and make it so that Frank tagged along. Just had to make sure that the one night he tries to let himself just be himself also has fucking Frank right there whispering those insults in his ear like that’s all he lives for.

“Could you just... like leave me alone for five minutes?” Gerard asks pleadingly, not looking at Frank but rather at the bar counter in front of him.

There’s a long moment where Frank doesn’t say anything and Gerard doesn’t turn to look at him, while he patiently awaits Frank to say something rude and make the night even more of a failure than he’d previously anticipated. Gerard knows it’s coming. He knows that Frank doesn’t actually have enough human decency to give him a few minutes to breathe, but still he hopes, somewhere deep in the bowels of his brain, that maybe there’s some part of him that’s human. It’s like communicating with a zombie though, Frank doesn’t actually give a shit. All he likes is to make Gerard miserable, and he’s succeeding. 

Just like all of high school, middle school, and elementary school, Frank will still manage to find a way to make everything worse. He’s still making Gerard miserable, this many years later. He’s still that bully that never lets him live his life.

“Uh, yeah,” Frank says, and he mumbles something quietly as he turns around, which, Gerard thinks for a moment, sounds strikingly like ‘sorry.’

Gerard shakes his head, because he must have misheard him. The last thing Frank would ever say to him is sorry. That’s just completely out of the question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Insert witty note that tempts you to leave a comment]


	12. The Beginning of the Turn: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm uncertain about the quality of this chapter, but whatever.

Gerard’s looking around, trying to figure out who’s interested in him. It’s not easy. It’s dark, and he’s lost in thoughts about Frank which he would ideally banish to a completely different universe.

He’s having trouble even trying to analyze everyone though, so he eventually just puts his head against the bar with the intent to clear his head.

It feels like he’s got three million thoughts all at once, but there isn’t enough space in his head for half of them. It just doesn’t feel right at all. He’s over processing, and sooner or later, his brain is going to short out. Probably sooner rather than later, judging by the way he can hear his blood pumping in his ears.

Mikey comes up to Gerard, who’s got his head on the bar like he’s about to fall asleep, but his head is pounding and he’s honestly feeling like shit right now. Gerard’s been sitting here for about twenty minutes just trying to collect his thoughts and figure out what it is he wants to do, but he’s not having much luck.

What he wants is for Frank to not be Frank and to get into the guys pants, but he can’t have that, because he’d resent himself for the rest of his life. He wants Frank to stop contradicting himself in his behavior, and either be the dick Gerard knows he is, or a more severe dick that Gerard isn’t quite expecting. What he doesn’t need right now is the Frank that actually listened to Gerard asking him to go away. 

Gerard is just trying to figure out why it was so _easy_ to shake Frank off earlier. Frank would never just walk away from him because Gerard asked him to. That’s not the kind of guy he is. He’d pester Gerard to make this night even worse. There’s no doubt in Gerard’s head that Frank would do that, so why on earth isn’t he?

“Gee?” Mikey asks.

“What?” Gerard replies. Not picking his head up quite yet.

“I’m going to head out, if that’s okay,” Mikey says, “I’ve been hit on by like six guys.”

“Why don’t I have your luck?” Gerard asks, looking up.

“Probably because when you sit like that you look extremely antisocial,” Mikey responds. “Sit up, and stop looking like you’ve got a terminal illness.”

“But I do have a terminal illness. It’s called life, and right now, it’s pretty shitty.”

“I’m going to pretend I don’t find it amusing that that rhymed, and instead I will attempt to be supportive,” Mikey says, and then he generically pats Gerard on the back, “there, there.”

“Get off me,” Gerard says shrugging Mikey’s hand away, and rolling his eyes. “You have the emotional capacity of a twig.”

“Thank you,” Mikey says, “but I also have a fantastic ass, and it’s making guys hit on me, so I’m going to leave.”

“Ugh, fine whatever,” Gerard says, because, right now, he honestly just doesn’t care that much. Mikey can leave, it doesn’t change anything for him. He’s still going to have Frank make fun of every little thing about him. Gerard’s not actually sure where Frank ran off too. With Gerard’s luck he’s probably making out with some guy already. Maybe he snagged the fauxhawk dude.

“See you later,” Mikey says, and Gerard turns his head to watch him leave, before he turns back to the bar in front of him to stare at his hands. 

The thought occurs to him that he doesn’t know where Frank is again, so he turns around in his seat to try to find him. Gerard’s not sure why he cares. He really shouldn’t care, but for some reason, he can’t pretend that he doesn’t. He wants to know where Frank is, if only so that he knows what area of the bar to avoid.

Frank is across the room talking to some guy, who’s pretty much impossible to get a good look at when you consider how dark the room is. Probably super attractive with a fancy car and a mansion. 

Gerard rolls his eyes, turns back around and downs the rest of his coke. Some guy across the bar from Gerard keeps making eyes at him, but he’s now all of a sudden worried about the dark circles under his eyes that he’s almost sure are there. He probably looks a mess with his hair everywhere and his cadaverous eyes drooping into his skull. 

Most of him is thinking that what he really wants is to just go to bed, while a slim part of him is also thinking that this could be his shot, and he should take it. When he thinks about it though, he’s not sure that’s a good idea as his feet don’t seem like they’re going to work right now. Something just feels extraordinarily off, but he can’t place it.

Gerard feels like he’s literally got a concussion or something, he’s not sure what caused it, but he feels sick to his stomach and sleepy. Gerard lifts his hand to his face to rub the sleep out of his eyes, and when he sees the pale skin, it doesn’t register for a long moment that it’’s his own hand. It feels like a ghost hand. A hand that belongs to someone else and not him. It’s also incredibly blurry, and hard to make out, but it’s not because of the dim lighting. There’s some other reason, and Gerard just can’t figure out what it is. 

Gerard looks back at the guy staring at him. His hair is bleach blond and his forehead is wrinkled like he’s angry a lot, but he’s not old. He’s thoroughly unappealing if Gerard’s being honest. Also, he has two noses. Or, he doesn’t. But he does. Gerard’s eyes keep blurring. It looks like the guy has two noses, but Gerard recognizes that he doesn’t actually. You know, probably.

Someone comes up behind him and sits on the stool next to him, and Gerard turns to see Frank, but he doesn’t process his features.

“Whoa, Gerard, you do not look good,” Frank says.

“Thanks,” Gerard says banally. 

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean that you look like you’re going to pass out.”

“You’re one to talk,” Gerard replies, “you’re face isn’t even in focus.”

“Oh god, please tell me you’re not drunk.”

“What?” Gerard asks, and thinks back. He’s sure he didn’t drink any alcohol. At least, he fucking hopes so. He doesn’t think that he could’ve. 

“You did drink. Must’ve slammed a shit ton,” Frank states, which confuses Gerard. He’s almost certain that he didn’t drink. That’s not like him. He wouldn’t ruin his progress like that, especially not with Mikey around. So he must not have, and he can’t figure out what makes him feel so sick right now though. 

“No, I didn’t,” Gerard assures. He feels incredibly ill. He feels like he’s about to pass out, but there’s this clenching fear in his stomach telling him something really awful will happen if he falls asleep.

“Yeah right,” Frank says, grabbing Gerard’s cup, and Gerard watches as he sniffs it. “Oh. Hang on, that’s just soda.”

“Yeah, I know. Told ya.”

“Okay, Gerard. We’re going to get you home though. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” Gerard lies.

“No, you fucking aren’t.”

Gerard feels Frank’s hands tugging on his arms, and his only instinct is to groan and try to push him away, but his limbs aren’t very strong.

“Gerard, work with me here!”

Gerard’s head goes blank. 

He stops thinking and Frank forcing him up is the last thing he hears or remembers before his eyes blink open. Time feels like it’s just skipped, because he is certain that he doesn’t recall at all what just happened. Gerard remembers Frank’s hands around his waist, pulling him up, which seems really weird and off, but then he just doesn’t know. Nothing seems to be coming to him. It’s just been completely erased.

Gerard’s in a sitting position, with his head against something warm. The ground below him feels like it’s moving. The sound of traffic is what lets him figure out that he’s in a car. It’s not moving very fast, but he’s fairly sure of that much. He must be in a cab then.

“No Mikey, I’m fairly sure he wasn’t drinking,” Frank’s voice says. There’s a very small noise that Gerard can’t make out in reply to Frank’s words. Despite being unable to hear the other side of the conversation, Gerard decides that Frank is talking on the phone.

“No, he’s unconscious right now,” Frank says. Gerard thinks for a moment before he decides that he is not, in fact unconscious, but he closes his eyes anyway. No need to contradict Frank. Besides, his eyes hurt. They feel like they’re going to fall out. It’s like he has a headache in his eyes.

“I don’t know!” Frank says to, presumably, Mikey.

Gerard wants to shift around a little bit, but he doesn’t want Frank to know he’s awake, and besides, he thinks he’s going to fall back into unconsciousness any second now. As it is, he actually doesn’t feel completely awake.

“No, I don’t know what happened. I just told you that,” Gerard hears Frank saying.

“Honestly?” Frank asks, “I think that he might’ve been roofied.” 

That thought unsettles Gerard. That might make a whole lot of sense though. Gerard’s brain starts to fill with thoughts of regret and self-loathing at that. How could he be that stupid? How on earth could he have let that happen? Obviously, being a guy he doesn’t have to worry about that as much, but still, he should’ve at least been more careful. What an idiot.

“I’m just going to get him to lie down. I mean, I wasn’t going to leave him _there_. God, I hate the guy, but I am human,” Frank says. Gerard hears Mikey saying something, but he can’t make it out and he doesn’t really care.

“Nah, my apartment’s closer. Besides, I don’t think he should be left on his own. I don’t know what the hell is in his system, but I want to make sure he’s okay.”

There’s some talking from the phone again before, “Yes, Mikey, I know you’ll rip out my still beating heart if something happens to him.”

Gerard smiles a little bit at that, because that definitely sounds like Mikey to him. He’s ever the asshole to his face, but cares about Gerard as much as he cares for Mikey. He’s still the annoying little brother, but he’s the annoying little brother that would probably falsely testify if Gerard were a serial killer. To be fair though, Gerard would probably lie on the stand for Mikey too. 

Gerard has the realization after way too long that whatever his head is against is warm, and boney. He can’t believe it for a moment, but he’s fairly sure of the fact that his head is on Frank’s shoulder. Frank’s got a really comfortable shoulder. It’s unbelievable. Gerard’s head fits really nicely, and if he moves his head just the smallest bit, he can smell Frank. He smells really nice. Like rosemary and a campfire.

It takes another couple of seconds but Gerard blacks out again, feeling way too contented, all things considering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	13. The Beginning of the Turn: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've got headaches, and bad luck.

Gerard thinks that he’s literally never had a worse headache in his entire existence. This isn’t just a bad hangover headache or anything, someone is trying to burrow his way out of Gerard’s cranium and he’s making the biggest possible hole in his head to do so.

He can’t even move, he’s in so much pain. Gerard groans and feels his hand clasp at his temple, but the panging doesn’t stop. Certainly he’s dying. That might be preferable to this migraine though. 

Gerard wiggles around, trying to find a comfortable angle to rest his head on the pillow underneath him. That’s when he notices the unfamiliar surroundings. He’s swaddled in a few big blankets, and there’s a nice pillow under his head, but this isn’t his bed. He’s not sure what the hell this is. It’s too soft to be the floor. Maybe he’s dead or something. That doesn’t seem entirely fair though. Gerard would hate for himself to have a headache while he’s chilling in hades or wherever the hell he is.

Gerard tries to open his eyes, but that’s an enormous mistake. The light in whatever room he’s in hits him, and it makes his head screech in pain. He closes his eyes just as quickly as he can, and tries to move around some more to let his hands figure out where he is.

He hears something moving quietly behind him, and he’s not sure what it is. There’s a faint clattering, it sounds really foreign and far away. Gerard groans, and tries to block out the noise because it makes his head hurt even more. This is entirely unpleasant. Way too unpleasant for him to be dead, so he assumes he must be alive, but that doesn’t seem like any sort of relief to him right now. 

“Gerard?” A voice asks, “You awake?”

He knows instantly that the voice belongs to Frank, and he wonders why on earth wherever he is has to have Frank there too. He’d probably be better off dead then in the same room as Frank while unconscious. He probably has a mustache drawn onto his face right now. Or maybe he’s got something rude written on his forehead. He highly doubts he could possibly be unconscious anywhere near Frank and not have had his face violated by a permanent marker. 

“Gerard?” Frank says again, and then Gerard hears soft footsteps walking nearer to him, so he puts his hands over his ears to block the sound from stabbing at his head.

“You are awake,” Frank says.

“Quiet,” Gerard murmurs in response. 

“Headache?” Frank asks him.

“Yes.”

“Let me get you some aspirin.”

Gerard doesn’t respond to that, he just sort of puts his hands over his eyes and pretends to not exist for a minute, hoping that if he falls back to sleep, he won’t have to suffer from this aching. 

“Gerard!” Frank says way too loudly, interrupting his reverie after a minute. Gerard’s almost completely forgotten what was happening a moment ago. He just knows that his head hurts.

“It’s not just going to go away, dumbass,” Frank says. “You’re going to have to sit up if you don’t want to get water all over yourself.”

“What?” Gerard asks. He feels a hand on his shoulder, trying to pull him up into a sitting position, but he whimpers and grabs the sides of his head to stop making it shake. Moving around has dislodged the peace he’d had for a moment when he kept entirely still.

“Here,” Frank says, and he feels a cold glass put into his hand and something small in the other hand. 

“Huh?” Gerard asks again, because he’s really not understanding much of anything right now while his head is screaming in agony. 

“Just take the damn pill, otherwise your head’s not going to get any better,” Frank says. Its weird hearing him try to be helpful through a voice full of spite. It’s like hearing an executioner telling you to smile, or like hearing a politician say something respectful about the female gender. It just doesn’t sound right coming from someone who never has a helpful thing to say.

Gerard takes a sip from the glass, tasting water that he hadn’t realized his mouth was lacking. His mouth is bone dry, and he almost drains the glass before remembering the small pill in his hand. It almost gets caught in his throat, but he swallows it nonetheless and then he feels Frank’s hand grabbing the glass from him.

Gerard groans, and then slouches back into his little nest of blankets. There’s something solid to one side of his body, and that’s how Gerard figures out that he’s on a couch. To one side, there’s the back of it which is squishy but relentlessly there, and the other side where there’s a drop from the cushions that leads to the hard floor.

“Do you remember what happened?” Frank asks, and Gerard can tell that Frank is looking down at him, leaning over the back of the couch.

“No,” Gerard replies. 

“Maybe not such a bad thing,” Frank replies. “I’m going to give you some time for that stuff to kick in. Do you need anything?”

Gerard really isn’t sure that he isn’t dead, because there’s no way on earth Frank would ever offer him anything besides a kick in the groin. That’s just not who he is. He wouldn’t ask Gerard if he needed anything. He also wouldn’t help him with a headache, he’d just scream in Gerard’s ear some more. This just all feels really weird.

“Frank?” Gerard asks, just to double check that this is, in fact, Frank he’s talking to right now.

“What?”

Gerard doesn’t respond. It must be Frank if he answered to Gerard calling him by his name. This is so strange. What on earth happened last night?

“Nothing,” Gerard answers, and then he puts his hands on the side of his head again to keep it still. That seems to be helping some, because his head doesn’t throb if he holds it in place.

Gerard must fall back into sleep, because he thinks that he wakes up some time later. His head still hurts, but it’s not nearly to the same extent as it had been however long ago. He only wakes up because he hears something quiet playing somewhere near him. After some guessing, he figures out that it’s a TV.

He groans a little bit and blinks his eyes open, which doesn’t meet him with as much pain as it had last time. This time he looks up at a ceiling that he recognizes but he hasn’t seen it very many times. Then it settles into his stomach that he’s in Frank’s apartment. He’s in Frank’s apartment. He’s on Frank’s couch. He’s cradled in Frank’s blankets. His head is on Frank’s pillow. He’s breathing Frank’s air.

“Ew,” Gerard groans.

“What?” Frank asks from somewhere way too near to him for his comfort. Gerard looks around and sees Frank sitting on the arm of the couch next to his feet. Gerard pulls his knees up closer to his body to put some distance between the two of them.

“I’m in your apartment,” Gerard says as an answer.

“I know,” Frank says, “and you’re a fucking mess.”

“What happened?” 

“You don’t remember?” Frank asks, “I’m not positive, but I’m fairly sure someone drugged you.”

“Oh god,” Gerard says, putting his hand to his forehead, but mostly because of embarrassment this time. He’s not sure why he’s embarrassed about it. It’s not exactly his fault. Sure he could’ve been more vigilant, but it’s not _his_ fault. Also, he’s just remembered some of last night. His head was on Frank’s shoulder. He literally used Frank as a pillow. He’ll never be able to wash his face enough after that. He’s never going to forget the time when he put his head on Frank’s shoulder. He kissed Frank once too. That was almost twenty five years ago, but still, it happened.

“You’re fine, so far as I can tell,” Frank says. “I mean, I don’t think you should have any permanent damage.”

“God, I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not going to see me denying that,” Frank says. “You are stupid. You’re fine though, nothing seems to be wrong. I mean, probably.”

Gerard makes a noise that can’t be easily described, and then he pulls himself up enough into a sitting position. He’s got that feeling that you get when you wake up on someone’s couch after a sleepover. He hasn’t had that feeling for several years. Obviously not, he’s an adult. Usually sleepovers he has now involve a lot less clothes and you don’t call them sleepovers. 

Gerard groans, he didn’t even get laid last night. All things considering though, he should probably be very happy about that. Actually, there’s absolutely no way to feel bad about that.

Gerard frowns when he realizes that he should probably thank Frank. He really should. Frank really could’ve left him there. He could’ve. Though, Gerard doesn’t like the guy, but he doesn’t think Frank’s _that_ bad. Gerard doesn’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if Frank hadn’t gotten him out of there. What if Mikey hadn’t invited Frank? Gerard might’ve been on an episode of Law and Order. There’s so many different horrific things that could’ve happened to him, but none of them got that chance because Frank was there.

“I guess...” Gerard starts, before gagging on his words. “I guess I should, like, uh, thank you.”

“You sound ever so sincere,” Frank replies sardonically.

“No really,” Gerard answers, “I mean it. Like, thanks. Something bad could’ve happened if you weren’t there.”

Frank looks over at him, looking skeptical of the sentiment, before he sees that Gerard isn’t being sarcastic about it at all. Gerard hates being nice to Frank, but he really can’t deny that Frank helped him. He acted like a human, he’s nothing special for helping, but he still deserves thanking no matter how much it doesn’t want to come out of Gerard’s mouth. 

“Yeah,” Frank says, because he doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that.

They sit there staring awkwardly at each other for way too long. The TV is playing quietly in front of them, and Gerard doesn’t know what to do or say now.

“Uh, you hungry?” Frank asks. 

“I,” Gerard starts before realizing that he doesn’t have an answer. He thinks about it for a moment before deciding that he really could use some food. Gerard nods his head and Frank nods back, and then looks around like he forgot what he was doing.

“Uh, okay,” Frank says, standing up and walking back over to the kitchen. 

Gerard pulls a few blankets off of himself, and he rubs some of the sleep out of his eyes. He looks around for a moment, before looking behind him to see Frank messing around with something in the kitchen.

“Frank?” Gerard asks, and he turns around at the sound of his name.

“Yeah?”

“Uh, bathroom?” 

“Oh, yeah. Down the hall. First door on the left,” he replies and Gerard nods in response. 

Frank’s apartment isn’t all that big so Gerard doesn’t have too much trouble finding his way.

Gerard checks his face in the mirror to see that Frank hasn’t drawn all over it. That almost surprises him. He’d actually expected to be covered in marker, but he isn’t.

Gerard’s a snooper. He can’t really help it. He’s the kind of person who looks through your medicine cabinet, and he’s ashamed of his obsession with looking through peoples stuff, but he can’t help it. It’s just a habit of his.

Gerard looks around the small bathroom for a moment, and opens the cabinet above the sink curiously. There’s nothing very interesting in there. Basic stuff. Various medicines, nothing all that exciting. He’s also got some cough drops, as well as a box of condoms in the back, but Gerard doesn’t know why that’s so weird. For some reason, he can’t fathom Frank, the kid who grew up in the house next door, having sex. It’s just so weird. This is the same kid who once skinned his knee in Gerard’s driveway and cried for an hour and a half. The same kid who wore a Spiderman bandage on that same knee for like four weeks just to make sure it healed properly. It’s just hard for him to associate Frank as that same person.

Frank’s the guy who he used to play with every day in first grade. They used to attempt skipping rocks at the pond near their school together. Frank was the guy who he used to play hide and seek with. Frank always picked rock when they played rock-paper-scissors. Frank was afraid of one of the monsters on an episode of Scooby Doo. 

It’s the same Frank who used to try to trip him in the hallway between classes. The same Frank who put paint in his hair. The same Frank that stole Gerard’s calculator in eighth grade.

That Frank is the same person with a bunch of tattoos all over him. He’s the same guy that’s apparently really good at getting laid. The same Frank who’s in a band, and the same Frank who swears like a sailor.

The Frank he knows now used to be his best friend. They were inseparable. He was Gerard’s first kiss even. They liked each other well enough to see each other every day after school. 

Now they detest the very ground the other walks on. They call each other stupid insults and imagine increasingly more creative causes of death that might befall upon the other. But still, they used to be best friends. How on earth did they end up here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to leave the link to my tumblr [here](http://helenamayhathaway.tumblr.com) because my new theme is fantastic.


	14. Mikey is Basically Smarter Than Everyone On the Planet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I find myself in times of trouble, Mikey Way comes to me. Speaking words of wisdom.

Gerard leaves the bathroom a moment after he's finished snooping to see Frank busying himself with something in the kitchen. Gerard’s not too sure what, because he’s not really paying any attention.

“Do you still like cinnamon sugar on your toast?” Frank asks him, and Gerard’s both taken aback and confused by the words. 

“What?” 

“Well, when we were kids,” Frank starts, drifting off and looking uncomfortable, “that’s what you liked. I was just...”

“That was such a long time ago. How on earth do you even remember that?” Gerard asks.

“Well I just-” Frank starts, but stops himself. “You know what, never mind.” 

“Why did you bother to remember that?”

“It’s not important!” Frank insists, “I just did. Okay? I didn’t mean to. You’re one to talk though, you completely forgot about you and I ever being friends. If you ask me, that’s a lot weirder than remembering things about a guy who did used to be my best friend.”

“We were never really friends though,” Gerard says, because he likes pretending they weren’t. Ever since the memories have resurfaced of how they used to hang out, it’s been easier to pretend that Frank was always his enemy. It’s better on his conscience. He remembers just how close they were though, and he hates feeling guilty about the fact that they lost that. 

They were close though. Everyone thought they were fucking adorable, and they probably were. It’s kind of sad to think that they lost that so easily. 

“Just, like, here,” Frank says, and he pushes a plate over to Gerard with a piece of toast on it. “You do whatever.”

“Yeah, okay,” Gerard says, furrowing his eyebrows at the weird exchange. Frank awkwardly walks around the kitchen counter and to the other side of the room. He does his best to look anywhere but at Gerard, which is confusing for the both of them, because Gerard doesn’t know why he’s avoiding eye contact, and Frank doesn’t know why he all of a sudden is incapable of looking at Gerard in the eye.

The painfully uncomfortable silence is mercifully broken a second later by someone hammering at the door.

“I will get that!” Frank says, jumping quickly to the door like it’s all he lives for. Gerard just watches and grabs the toast as is, because he feels weird meddling around in someone else’s kitchen. He likes to look through peoples stuff, but it’s weird when said person is in the room to watch him do it. 

“Hello mikeyway,” Frank says when he opens the door. 

“Where’s Gerard?”

“No, don’t say hi back. I’m just a human, no need to be polite,” Frank says sarcastically.

“Hello Frank, where is Gerard?”

“Hey Mikes,” Gerard calls from the kitchen. 

Mikey walks past Frank and into the apartment, without any real invitation, but he’s got a way of making you do just about anything he wants. There’s really no questioning Mikey, especially when he’s got that look in his eye like he’s out for blood.

“You had me fucking worried, Gerard, you asshole,” Mikey says, crossing his arms as he looks at Gerard.

“You’re angry with me? What’d I do? I’m the victim here, Mikey!” 

“I’m not saying it’s your fault!” Mikey replies, “but you didn’t even fucking call me to tell me that you’re not fucking dead. That’s why you’re an asshole.”

“I was unconscious!”

“That’s not a valid excuse.”

“Get angry at Frank then! I was asleep, _he_ could’ve called you,” Gerard points out.

“You’re right,” Mikey says, and he turns around to look at Frank.

“What’d I do?” he exasperates.

“I’m just angry at the both of you, and myself. Gerard, you could’ve died, someone could’ve murdered you, or worse. I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have left you.”

“Well that one’s on you,” Gerard shrugs, “but I’m not mad at you. Look at me, I’m in one piece, I’m fine. I’m not dead or anything. I’d say things turned out pretty damn well.”

“Yeah, but I feel guilty now, and I don’t want to feel guilty, so I’m blaming you for that,” Mikey says.

“Seriously? You’re just-” Frank starts.

“This is Mikey you’re talking to, Frank,” Gerard reminds him.

“Right.”

“Am I missing something?”

“Mikey, you could make a saint feel like a bad person with the way that you guilt trip people,” Gerard tells him. 

“I’m not that bad. You’re an asshole, Gerard. You didn’t call me, you should’ve called me.”

“You’re literally proving my point.”

“Gerard, you’re coming with me,” Mikey says, ignoring Gerard’s words, and reaching over the kitchen counter to grab his wrist.

“Am I allowed to object to the pulling?” Gerard asks, almost stubbing his toe on the counter. He’s not necessarily objecting to leaving Frank’s apartment, because it’s making him feel strange, but he doesn’t like being dragged.

It’s strange because he’s started to like it in here. Frank’s got a pretty nice place, in all honesty. It’s small, and it’s not that fancy, but it’s welcoming. It also smells really nice. It smells like Frank and soap. 

“Come on, Gerard!” 

“Thank you, Mikey. I don’t want him here anyway,” Frank says, opening the door further for them to walk through.

“Where are we even going?” Gerard asks. 

“We just have to talk,” Mikey says, pulling Gerard past Frank, who smirks at the look on his face.

“Well that clears things up, thanks.”

“Frank, thank you for making sure he was safe,” Mikey shouts, already almost halfway down the hall. Mikey’s legs are longer than a normal humans. He’s more leg than he is anything else, so he would beat the crap out of you in a race. Gerard is more feet than he is legs. They’re quite big and he’s always tripping on them. He is not made for running in the slightest. Standing he is good at; running he is not.

“Why am I being dragged?” Gerard asks before stringing out Mikey’s name loudly. 

“We need to talk,” Mikey says.

“About?”

Mikey doesn’t reply. He just drags Gerard through Frank’s building, almost making him fall down the stairs, and then out into the world outside. The wind hits Gerard as soon as they’re outside, making him shiver.

“I’m cold.”

“And heartless,” Mikey says, nodding.

“What? No! I meant that the temperature is making me chilly,” Gerard replies.

“You complain too much,” Mikey says. 

“You’re going to take my fucking arm off. Just let go of me and we can talk, okay?” Gerard says.

“Fine!” Mikey says, letting go of him. “So what the hell is going on between you two then?”

“What?” 

Mikey looks at him like he’s the dumbest person on the planet, and repeats, “what is going on between the two of you?”

“The two of who?” Gerard asks.

“You and Frank.”

“What about me and Frank?”

“You like him!” Mikey says loudly. Gerard has the instinct to shush him even though they’re standing on an almost deserted street, surrounded by people who have no idea who they are in the first place.

“I don’t like Frank. What the _hell_ are you talking about?”

“I was joking at first, Gerard. I was completely messing around with you, because it was funny, but look at you. You actually do like him!” Mikey says.

“You’re wrong. I don’t like him. How could I like Frank? Have you met him? I hate him. You know I hate him.”

“But you like him. I can see it in your fucking eyes, Gee.”

“Then you need to get your eyes checked because I like Frank the same way I like rotten fish,” Gerard replies.

“Yeah? Then how come you were still in Frank’s apartment when I got there? If you really did hate him, then you’d have left that place the moment you woke up.”

“I have a headache,” Gerard shrugs, “Why is it such a big deal if I stayed for a few extra minutes? That is not a confession of undying love.”

Mikey scoffs, “oh right. So you don’t feel anything for him whatsoever? Is that really what you’re trying to tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Gerard, since when did you make a habit of lying to me? You never lie to me, but here you are now, lying your fucking ass off.”

“I’m not lying!” Gerard insists.

“Oh right. What else are you going to try to tell me? Frank doesn’t like you either?” Mikey says, making the second half of his words sound like it’s even more obvious than Gerard’s apparent liking of Frank. Gerard obviously doesn’t like Frank, and they both know that. He doesn’t know what the hell Mikey is on about with any of this. When you add in the insinuation that Frank supposedly likes _him_ , then Gerard is forced to worry about Mikey’s sanity.

“What?” Gerard asks, “Frank doesn’t like me.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“I am not.”

“Gerard, I will spell this out for you if I need to, okay? I will buy you a skywriter if you can’t get this message. Frank likes you. Frank has a crush on you. Frank looks at you the way you look at Han Solo. He doesn’t just want to get into your pants, he wants to steal your heart. Frank. Likes. You,” Mikey says.

“No he doesn’t,” Gerard replies.

“Oh come on!” Mikey says emphatically, “You are not that dumb! He likes you, Gerard. Frank has liked you for like twenty years. I know this because I hung out with him in high school. I know you’re starting to like him too, okay? You can hide, or deny it, but that won’t change the fact that I know you better than anyone else in the world! It’s literally the most obvious thing that you like him.”

“Frank has not liked me since high school. He’s never liked me. Maybe when we were five or whatever, but kids are stupid. They don’t know anything. We didn’t actually like each other back then. What’re you even talking about?”

“You don’t honestly believe he picked on you purely because of a grudge, do you? He was angry at himself for liking you. You don’t see that?” Mikey asks.

“No, because it’s not true.”

“God Gerard,” Mikey says, putting a hand on his forehead, probably to stop himself from punching Gerard in the face. “Okay, you know that episode of Friends where Brad Pitt guest starred and his character and Ross used to be friends in high school?”

“What the hell are you even talking about?”

“So Ross and Brad Pitt had started a rumor about Rachel because Ross was secretly in love with her, and decided to take it out on her by being an ass,” Mikey continues. “Gerard, Frank and I started the rumor that you were a vampire-”

“So?”

“Frank likes you,” Mikey states. “Frank picked on you all throughout high school, and always got carried away rambling about his supposed loathing for you because he liked you. He hasn’t changed that much. He’s still the dumb idiot who has a crush on my brother. He still goes on and on about you to literally everyone, insulting every tiny thing about you, because he doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that he really likes you.”

“No he doesn’t. He does not like me. And I don’t like him.”

Mikey rolls his eyes, “and you like him just as much! You’re trying to kid yourself, and honestly, I’m not sure if you’re even completely aware of the way you behave around him, but no one just reacts that way towards people. No one is just that passionate about their feelings for each other. Not solely out of hate, and especially not out of indifference. The point is that, no one is that passionate about any emotions toward someone unless they really care for them. I know that the passion is transmitted negatively, but that doesn’t change the fact that you have extremely strong feelings for him. I mean, yes, I believe without a doubt that you two hate each other, but you still _like_ each other too. Do you know how fine the line between hate and love is, Gerard? It’s so fucking thin, that the line is barely even there at all, and you two are walking a tightrope between the two. You’re both trying to pretend that you aren’t falling for each other, but then you slip up, and I’m the only person who’s able to see it!”

“You’re just... insane. Okay? Frank doesn’t like me! You’re insane, Mikes,” Gerard says.

Mikey groans loudly and catches the attention of an old woman walking by. “You’re so stupid. If he doesn’t like you then tell me why on earth do you think he agreed to letting you set him up? He wants to be near you! He doesn’t know why, and you don’t know why you’re doing the same, but both of you are intentionally finding whatever excuses you can to keep in contact with each other. Sooner or later, you are going to realize how right I am.”

“Mikey, I can assure you that the hate I feel for Frank is not love wearing a carnival mask. I hate him. For real.”

“Yes, you do. You hate him. You hate me too, Gerard. You hate a lot of people, but you still like them, don’t you? You can’t have friends without hating them a little bit. With you and Frank though, you’re just letting the hate stand out more, when the like is still there, just not as obvious. I know I’m right, Gee,” Mikey says.

“So did he tell you that he likes me? I mean, has Frank ever explicitly told you that?” Gerard asks, skeptically.

“No, but I’m smarter than both of you combined. Times ten. To the fourteenth power. Plus a billion.”

“Whatever,” Gerard says, turning around and walking down the street. He’s doing his best to pretend that Mikey isn’t following him.

“This conversation is not over, Gerard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All who comment will receive a telepathic hug and an invisible pair of socks in your choice of color.


	15. Yet Another Chapter in Two Parts: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Disney references in this chapter.

Gerard really should have thought this through more. He should’ve considered who he was talking to before he agreed to anything. He should have expected this. He should have anticipated some sort of deception, because this did not go at all the way he had expected. Really, it went the way it was all intended to, but Gerard is just really disappointed in how gullible he is. 

He really needs an app that reminds him not to believe a single word that comes out of Mikey’s mouth. Often he’s lying out of his ass and Gerard really should be used to this. It’s not new. He can’t believe he’s still falling for these things. He likes to believe the best in people, and he also likes to think that Mikey doesn’t have the tendency to be a compulsive liar when he’s trying to get Gerard to do things. 

Gerard was expecting food. That’s all he wanted. Just some food because he’s hungry and he’s had a very confusing day, so he just wanted to eat something nice that can’t be bought on the clearance rack at a convenience store. Maybe it was his hunger that distracted him from the obvious gaping hole in everything that Mikey had said. 

So that’s how Gerard ends up standing in the middle of Frank’s apartment wishing that the ground would open up and swallow him. 

“How is this my life?” Gerard asks the air around him. “How am I even here?”

“Gerard, stop talking to yourself,” Mikey calls to him. 

“I’m the only one who seems to understand how dumb this situation is though.”

“You’re free to leave you know,” Frank replies, “I’m not stopping you.”

“Yeah, but I have no money. Like, I don’t have cash for a cab and you’re an asshole who just has to live nowhere near a subway stop,” Gerard says. “I was planning on Mikey paying for my ride home.”

“And I will,” Mikey says, “but we’re here now, and I need to puppeteer the both of you into admitting you like each other before we leave.”

“But we don’t like each other,” Frank says.

“So you say.”

“We don’t, Mikey. How many times do I have to tell you that?” Gerard says.

“No number of times will ever convince me,” Mikey says, “I know you like each other. I mean, I already knew Frank liked you, but Gerard I can see it in your eyes that you like him too. You’re just too cowardly to admit to anyone, including yourself.”

“Wait, hold up,” Frank says, raising his hands as if he’s about to surrender, “I do not recall ever saying that I like Gerard.”

“You literally say it every few seconds,” Mikey says, “its subtext, but you are like a broken record. You just keep repeating it, and it’s annoying me. I’m trying to get you two to admit it to each other so that I don’t have to fucking deal with you anymore.”

“I resent that.”

“You were meant to.”

“Asshole,” Gerard murmurs.

“You’re just now figuring that out?” Mikey says.

“All you Ways are completely insane.”

“He’s got a point,” Mikey nods.

“I have absolutely no blood relation to Mikey. We just found him wandering along the street and took pity,” Gerard says.

“You do realize we were friends when he was, like, born, right?” Frank says. 

“We were three,” Gerard says.

“What a coincidence. That’s how many IQ points the two of you have put together,” Mikey says. Frank elbows him in the rib which makes Mikey grin back at him like he’s proud of himself. Actually, that’s probably why. 

“So what is on your agenda, Mikey?” Gerard asks, “Are you just going to lock us in a room until we take our clothes off?”

“Don’t be silly,” Mikey scoffs, brushing him off. “If I was going to lock you in a room together, I’d take your clothes with me before closing the door.”

“That’s a really disturbing thought,” Frank says. “I mean, I think that’s how they get pandas to mate or something?” 

“You’re not as cute as a panda,” Gerard says.

“Well that’s because I’m cuter,” Frank shrugs.

“The self-confidence you have is extremely ill-placed. I’d be more on the self-deprecating side if I had a face like that.”

“Gerard, everyone in this room knows that you are lying through your teeth. You find Frank just as attractive as he finds you. Which is to say that you two wouldn’t even need my help to rip each other’s clothes off if you were locked in a room together.”

“You know, we could team up and lock _him_ in a room,” Frank suggests.

“No, I don’t have enough time to go to the emergency room,” Gerard says.

“Why would you have to go...” Frank drifts off when he catches a look of the glimmer in Mikey’s eyes.

“I will hurt you if you so much as think about it, Iero.”

“Trust me when I say that Mikey’s threats are a lot less open then my own. If I threaten to rip your head off and feed it to alligators, I’m totally exaggerating, but Mikey’s got some weird ass habits and I wouldn’t put it past him,” Gerard says. 

“You never told us what it was that you were planning to do, Mikey,” Frank says, ignoring Gerard’s words as he usually does. 

“Well ideally, the two of you would look deeply into each other’s eyes and then make out, but I don’t feel like that’s likely to happen just yet, so I’m going to push you as close together as I possibly can.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You are,” Frank agrees.

“See! I’ve already got the two of you on the same side!”

“That side involves wanting to push you out of the window,” Frank says.

“Yeah, but it’s further progress than anyone else has been able to make,” Mikey says, picking himself up to his feet and walking across the room to Gerard.

“What are you doing?” Gerard asks when Mikey grabs his wrist and drags him across the floor to where Frank is looking just as confused as he feels. 

“I’m immature,” Mikey says, “and don’t you forget it.”

“What?” Gerard asks, before Mikey grabs Frank’s wrist and attempts to make them hold hands. He does not succeed because they both whack him in the shoulder before he even gets their hands to touch. 

“Well I tried. Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Yes we can,” Gerard says, “you’re stupid. You knew that wouldn’t work, I don’t even know what game you’re playing.”

“Maybe I can recreate the scene from Lady and the Tramp. I need spaghetti,” Mikey says.

“Or maybe Frank and I can recreate the scene from The Fellowship of the Ring where we chop your fucking head off.”

“I’m doing the best I can!” Mikey says, “I’m the only one here who’s trying to do what’s best for you guys. Like, I’m trying to set you up with your soul mates. How many people in here are actually trying to knock the sense into you two that you’re made for each other?”

Frank starts, “We are not-”

“Shut up, okay. The grownups are speaking,” Mikey interrupts, leaving Frank with an open mouth like he’s questioning the meaning of life all of a sudden. “I’m trying to help you two, but you’re both so stupid. Think about it though. You have the most perfect story to tell at parties ever. You get to tell people that you were childhood friends but then you hated each other, and then a bunch of years went by where you still hated each other and then one day Gerard’s effervescent, gorgeous, genius, and heroic brother stepped in to make you two realize that you were in love with each other and have been for, like, twenty five years.”

“In what way are you heroic?”

“I’m the hero of your story who pushes you two together after all these years,” Mikey says, the ‘duh’ being apparent in his voice without him needing to say it. “Your story is basically a Disney movie. Or, well, maybe more of an Indie movie. Too many dicks for it to be a Disney movie. And if you were wondering, I mean that in two different ways. The first being that you are gay and thus there are more dicks in the equation than a Disney movie would typically have, and the second being that both of you are complete dicks.”

“So, Gerard, tell me more about that cutting his head off thing,” Frank says.

“I’ve got you two talking. Connecting. This is what I need. Go ahead though. Talk about how much you hate me. It’s _something_ at least. I mean, we all know that no insult you could possibly come up with is applicable to someone as amazing as me, but I’ll play along if it means that you’re talking.”

“We just need to make it through twenty five more days and then we can pretend we never knew each other,” Gerard says, more to himself than to Frank. 

“Oh Gerard, dearest brother, you don’t think I’m going to give up that easily, do you? I will keep pushing you until I die. I will even shove you together in the afterlife. In fact, I will rise from my fucking grave just to make sure you end up together. I literally will not rest until you marry each other and have a bunch of little adopted babies who have the best uncle in the world.”

“Frank doesn’t have any siblings, Mikes,” Gerard reminds him. “That means that you would be my kids’ only uncle, and you are certainly not the best. Probably the worst.”

“I think the worst uncle in the world would probably be Mitt Romney,” Frank says, “Or, like, Satan or something.”

“Did you just compare Mitt Romney to Satan?” Gerard asks, “We might have more in common than I thought.”

“I can see what’s happening, but they don’t have a clue,” Mikey starts to sing before Gerard flicks him in the temple.

“Why am I here if all you’re going to do is suck on your thumb and whine about us not being together?” Gerard asks.

“Because I promised you food and I intend to deliver on that promise.”

“You’re paying for my food too then,” Frank says, “call it incentive to not choke both of you. I’m not even sure who’s annoying me more right now.”

“Right now? It’s definitely Mikey.” 

“Yeah,” Frank nods.

“See?” Mikey says, “This is what I’m talking about. Getting you to build a bond between your hatred of things. Except, maybe you could direct this conversation more in the direction of how much you love each other.”

“He was dropped on his head as a child,” Gerard says. “Repeatedly.”

Frank snorts, “Wasn’t that the reason why we weren’t even allowed to play with him when he was a baby? Because they dropped you too?”

“Actually I think that relates more so to the number of times he’s hit his head as an adult. Gerard’s still not very smart and regularly hits his head on things,” Mikey says.

“Well I’ve hit my head a few times. Mainly headboards,” Gerard says.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Frank responds.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of your jealousy,” Gerard says.

“Jealousy? You’re right. I am jealous. I wish I could be one of those guys who slams your head against a fucking block of wood.”

“I’m taking that as admittance to wanting to fuck me,” Gerard says. 

“Your logic is the most irrational thing in the world. How on earth am I admitting to anything?”

“Frank, let me explain the innuendo to you,” Mikey says, putting an arm around him to demean him. “Is that what it is? An innuendo? I don’t know the proper term, but it seemed to go over your head there. See, Gerard was implying that he has a lot of sex, because that’s usually why you hit your head on a headboard. So, Frank, by saying-”

“Mikey, I understood what he was saying, get off of me,” Frank says, pushing him off. “It’s just that I really like the picture of repeatedly hitting Gerard with a block of wood.”

“Mikey, if I don’t get food sometime soon, I’ll just walk home,” Gerard says, abruptly ending whatever the hell they were talking about. It’s not really classifiable as a conversation when it’s just a marathon of insults. 

“Do you really want to get murdered?” Frank asks. “It’s like seven at night. No way you could walk home across half of the city and live to tell the tale.”

“Fair point. Mikey, I will steal your wallet and then I will go home and by a bunch of things on ebay.”

“You will do no such thing,” Mikey says. “But you’re hungry then? What was the census on spaghetti? What else is romantic? I hear chocolate is an aphrodisiac. Also bananas and I feel like that might make more sense for the two of you considering the shape of them. I’ll literally get you any food that might get you in the mood to open up your hearts... or possibly your zippers.”

“Mikey,” Gerard starts, “the only way you could get Frank and I to like each other is if we were Sims.”

“Or the imperius curse,” Frank adds.

“Right. You could only get us together under those two circumstances. Food just ain’t gonna cut it,” Gerard says.

Mikey looks at him for a moment like he’s trying to read Gerard’s mind. He probably _is_ reading his mind actually.

“I’m going to write that down,” Mikey says, grabbing his phone from his pocket.

“Why? Mikes, what are you doing?”

“I’m writing that down, because I’m going to quote that when I give the best man speech at your wedding,” Mikey says.

“I don’t know whether it would do anything to even correct him at this point, or if we should just let him go on and fuel his misconceptions of our nonexistent relationship,” Frank says, “then again, it might be fun to tell this story at his funeral after we hold him down and drown him in a sink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you comment you get a matching hat for those socks you got in the last chapter or a lifetime supply of snokoplasm.


	16. Yet Another Chapter in Two Parts: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank fails to prove a point.

“Well what do we do with him then?” Frank asks.

“I don’t know. He’s like, a dead weight. Seriously, I don’t know why, because he literally has no fat on him at all anywhere, but he’s really heavy.”

“Or maybe you’re just really weak,” Frank says.

“Do _you_ want to drag him into a cab?” Gerard asks.

“Well, or we could just toss him out the window. Like, build a crane or something and lower him down.”

“Yeah, I would, but unfortunately, we do not live in a cartoon, so how about we just wait for him to wake up?” Gerard says.

“But what if he’s asleep for, like, the night?” Frank asks.

“Well then we just leave him on the couch,” Gerard shrugs.

“I mean... I had a Way on my couch last night, I don’t need another one tonight too,” Frank says.

“Yeah, but this one won’t insult you as much,” Gerard says, looking down at Mikey. “You know... we could draw a moustache on his face.”

“I’m not drawing any facial hair on your brother’s face. You know he’d kill me right? Well, he’d probably kill you first, but I am not going to be killed just because you thought it’d be funny to behave like a toddler?”

“Ugh. Party pooper.”

“This is not a party,” Frank says, “And if it were it’d be the lamest party ever. Seriously, there’s only three of us, it’s ten o’clock, and Mikey’s already passed out. Jesus fuck, I’m literally sitting on the floor of my own apartment because you’re brother passed out on my couch. This would be the worst party ever!”

“You’re right. It’s only a real party if someone has sex in the bathtub.” 

“Well I’ll tell you what, you can go fuck yourself in the bathtub and I won’t stop you,” Frank says.

“I’m going to turn down that offer. Surprisingly enough, I don’t find the idea of even being here right now appealing, but my ride home, or should I say, the guy who will be paying the cab for me to get home, is passed out on your couch so I’m just stuck for now.”

Frank snorts, “Yeah, you’d probably have a hard time not picturing me naked, wouldn’t you?”

“That would be a real boner kill if you ask me,” Gerard responds.

“Gerard, you can just admit to it you know,” Frank says, looking at him like he’s really sick of something. That something is probably Gerard. 

“Admit to what?” Gerard asks.

“The fact that you think I’m hot.”

“I don’t-”

“Oh save it!” Frank interrupts, “seriously? You think it’s not obvious? Gerard, we both know that you’re attracted to me, okay? We both know that I’m attracted to you, okay? Denying it is meaningless at this point.”

“Wait, hold on. What was that? You’re attracted to me?” Gerard asks, his eyebrow raising so high that it almost gets lost in his hairline.

“Well duh,” Frank replies, “I mean, I’m not stupid. I know you’re not ugly, and I know that if you weren’t Gerard Way, I’d totally hit on you if I saw you in a bar. Like, that’s not a big deal, really. I just think you’re good looking, but you still repulse me. Like, I hate you a lot, and I’m somewhat disgusted with myself that I think you’re attractive, but I’m just not up to denying something that’s so obvious.”

“Wait,” Gerard says, and he crinkles his nose when he realizes what he’s hearing. His whole brain is screaming at him that this should make him want to vomit. Knowing that Frank thinks of him like that should just about make him need to hurl, but it’s kind of nice. It is. It’s nice knowing that someone he hates that mush still can’t help but be attracted to him. Those are good words to hear.

He just wishes it weren’t so obvious that the appeal is mutual. He wishes he were better at hiding it, at choking it down. He doesn’t want to be attracted to Frank, he really doesn’t, but he is. Frank’s words are basically just stolen from Gerard’s tongue, because unfortunately, Frank’s dead right about him. He is attracted to Frank, and he can’t help it. It disgusts him, and he really wishes he weren’t, but he can’t deny that it is true. Well, he _can_ deny it, he supposes, but no one will actually believe him. They’d be right not to. 

“I still hate you,” Gerard says.

“Yeah me too.”

“Oh you hate yourself too?”

“That’s not what I meant! I meant, oh forget it. Fuck you, Shitdick.”

“Are you going to admit to wanting to do that too?” Gerard asks.

“Please,” Frank scoffs, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d rather marry Jabba the Hutt than you.”

“Yeah, but I’m not talking about marrying me, I’m talking about fucking me. You totally want to.”

“Your head is in the clouds, Gerard.”

“I think your head is just stuck in denial. Actually, I don’t think you’ve even managed that. I think that you know you want me, but you’re so afraid of that feeling that it practically incapacitates you.”

“That’s a big word, I’m proud of you. I didn’t know you could define words that have that many letters.”

“You deflected my question because you know I’m right,” Gerard says.

“Oh please,” Frank says, “That is so not true. Gerard, I wouldn’t even want to _kiss_ you.”

“Aw, well is that anything to say to your first kiss?” Gerard teases, “Or have you forgotten that you already have kissed me?”

“That was like a million years ago, and you were awful.”

“We were six! There’s no way you can remember if I was or wasn’t a good kisser.”

“I can,” Frank says. “You were awful.”

“You have no idea how good a kisser I am,” Gerard says.

“Yeah, I do,” Frank says, “there’s no way you’re any good.”

“You totally wouldn’t say that if you actually kissed me,” Gerard replies, shaking his head.

“Oh yeah?” 

“Definitely,” Gerard smirks. He doesn’t have a complete answer sheet which all the people he’s kissed have filled out or anything. It’s not like there’s an online survey that people fill out after making out with him. He’s never had people hold up numbers like he’s in a skiing tournament or something. Gerard is at least confident enough in his kissing ability to say that he’s not _bad_. He’s not a washing machine or a prude. He’s maybe not nationally ranked, but he does okay for himself.

“You’re full of it,” Frank states.

“I am not! Seriously? Being confident nowadays just means I’m full of it? This doesn’t seem fair! I have been told by like, a whole... two-ish people that I’m a great kisser!”

“Wow impressive standings, Gerard. It’s so hard to argue with someone who’s had feedback from that many people,” Frank says, sardonically.

“Fuck off,” Gerard frowns, “I’m a good kisser, okay? Deal with it. It’s not like you’re ever going to be able to prove me wrong, is it?”

“I could totally prove you wrong,” Frank mutters.

“Yeah whatever. I’d be the one proving you wrong, and we both know it.”

Frank repeats his words, “I’ll prove you wrong.”

Gerard is in the middle of rolling his eyes, and turning his head to look at Frank with irritation when it happens. 

Gerard’s mouth is just minding its own business, trying to come up with something mean to say to Frank when all of a sudden Frank actually is kissing him. With his mouth. On top of Gerard’s mouth. So that they’re touching. Each other’s. Mouths. With their mouths. 

“Oh god, gross!” Gerard exclaims, pushing Frank off a second later. “Jesus fucking Christ! That was disgusting!”

“You’re really not that great a kisser,” Frank says.

“You- I- what... just happened?” Gerard shouts, a little too loudly considering Mikey’s asleep right next to them.

“Oh grow up! It was just a kiss. We didn’t fuck or anything. It’s not like that’s a big deal or anything.”

“What is going on?”

“I proved you wrong. You’re really not that great a kisser,” Frank says.

“Yeah, well, you did catch me by surprise, didn’t you?” Gerard says, “I mean, I’d have been better if you’d given me some warning or something.”

“Alright, fine,” Frank says, grabbing Gerard by the back of his hair and pulling him closer. “I’m giving you a warning this time, got it?”

“You’re gonna-” Gerard is about to ask Frank why he’s doing it again when he’s cut off, because Frank does it again.

Gerard’s thought process goes a little something like this: _“Fuck, again? Seriously? We’re doing this again? Frank, you’re a fucking fuckhead and I hate you. I’m kissing Frank. Ew. It’s kind of nice. What? Oh god, it’s a good thing he can’t hear what I’m thinking right now. Thank fucking god. That would be bad. It is kind of nice though. Frank’s a good kisser. Very nice kisser. Really nice lips. Soft. Shut up, Gerard! This is Frank, you can’t like kissing him. Jeez, it’s been a while since we started kissing, hasn’t it? Why am I still kissing him? Why am I allowing this to happen? What on earth is going on right now? What point was I trying to prove that involves kissing Frank? Fuck it. If I’m gonna kiss him, I’m gonna fucking go for it.”_

So Gerard, being the smart cookie that he is, decides that he is going to really go for it. 

He grabs the sides of Frank’s face, even though logic and reason are screaming at him not to, and he attempts to make Frank forget what they were talking about. In that attempt however, Gerard himself gets a little bit lost.

Frank’s hair is really soft. And so are his lips. And he’s a good kisser. So is Gerard of course, he’s a good kisser, but he’s meant to be proving that point. It does help if the person you’re proving your point on is also a really good kisser. And he is.

He decides to treat this kiss like it’s not his arch nemesis he’s kissing. It makes it easier to focus on the matter at hand if he’s not trying to hypothesize the best way to murder the guy he’s kissing. That just makes everything kind of awkward.

Except in doing so, Gerard’s only choice is to treat this kiss like he’s kissing Frank. Not the guy he hates, Frank, but rather the guy who he used to play five hour games of Go Fish with. The guy who everyone thought he was going to marry someday. He has to picture Frank as being his best friend, that guy, because it doesn’t work any other way. He’s still that really attractive guy in the band with the big secret that’s made his mother so disappointed in him, but he’s also the guy that always ate Skittles in even numbers. The guy who really liked to watch the washing machine cycle for no good reason. Pretending that he and Frank have been friends all these years isn’t as hard as Gerard would have liked to believe. It’s actually kind of easy to picture him and Frank as friends. 

Maybe they’d never let themselves be torn apart in second grade. Maybe they stayed close throughout all of their elementary school years, even if they were put on other sides of the room for being too close. Maybe they had been high school sweethearts though. It probably would’ve been sometime over summer break, sometime in their high school years. Frank would’ve been hanging out with Gerard in his room really late at night. They’d have been talking for a couple of hours about stupid things they’d done in their childhood, the childhood where they’d been best friends, and they’d have been trying to keep their voices down because everyone was asleep in the house. Then Gerard maybe would’ve just leaned in and Frank wouldn’t have pulled away. Mikey would’ve known the next morning, and teased Gerard about it, but Gerard would be so giggly and bubbly because he’d kissed his best friend the night before and it was perfect.

He probably would’ve taken Frank to prom. They’d have requested songs from the DJ that were too inappropriate to be played at a school function. Gerard would’ve gone to school halfway across the country while Frank went to the other end, and everyone would’ve told them they wouldn’t make it, but they’d persevere through those four years anyway. They’d have probably had a lot of fights, just trying to make it through college and still be together.

Then they would’ve moved in to an apartment together. Everyone would have told them they wouldn’t make it but they had. And then one day, one of them would probably have hidden a ring in the others’ cereal box, and of course they’d be all ecstatic. They’d kiss and maybe fuck, because they were engaged and it would have been perfect. They’d have had to call their moms with the news and they’d have both had the words ‘I told you so’ given to them, because they had lived up to the expectations that had been made for them when they were five years old.

They would celebrate Frank’s thirtieth birthday and be all coupley and gooey, making Mikey make faces at them, but he’d actually be really glad that Gerard was happy. They’d be that couple that has a lot of parties in their apartment and Gerard would actually be trusted with a glass of wine, because he wouldn’t have gone through those rough years in his late twenties. They’d have that stupid fucking contract framed on the wall above their bed. 

But that’s all in his head. It’s not real. 

Gerard realizes way too late that this has been going on for way too long. Like _way_ too long. The kind of long that would make a joke unfunny. Really way too long.

This is not anything like Gerard’s first kiss ever with Frank. That had been a lot more thought out, and he’d had more misgivings about it at the time, because kissing anyone was weird at that age. This is not like that. That had been very innocent. They barely pecked each other before it was over. Gerard did not know that some people put their tongues in other people’s mouths, and that knowledge would have put six year old Gerard off for life. He’d have been disgusted. Tongues should stay to themselves, he’d have thought. He was so innocent back then. His tongue would never hang out with someone else’s tongue.

So why is his tongue in Frank’s mouth now? That’s a very good question, which Gerard would like answered. 

Frank’s really not making any attempt to push Gerard off though, and that’s what gets him to keep going. It’s really nice. Gerard knows that the minute this is over, he’s never going to get to kiss Frank again, and chillingly, he feels his heart drop at that. He can’t believe that makes him sad! That should be a good thing. That should be a really good thing. This is Frank. He’s supposed to think Frank’s an awful kisser, because he hates him, but that’s not what he’s thinking right now. That’s not even kind of what he’s thinking right now.

What Gerard is thinking right now would be censored to oblivion if it were broadcast anywhere. His mind is wondering to places that are only usually known to people who are actually in the process of being fucked. This is not at all a situation that should emanate those types of thoughts. 

Frank is a really good kisser though. He knows the right amount of tongue to use, and he knows where to put his hands, one on the back of Gerard’s head and the other on the side of his neck. He knows how not to get his nose in the way, which a lot of the people Gerard’s kissed had trouble with. It’s not like he’s kissed a lot of people, but really, you’d think they’d realize that their nose was in the fucking way.

The fact that he’s such a good kisser makes Gerard wonder what else he’s good at. If Frank really has slept with as many guys as he claims to have, then he’s probably really good in bed. That’s a thought that makes Gerard’s head go into a frenzy. The thought that almost makes him lose his sanity is the fact that Frank does have a really nice mouth. A really nice mouth. A mouth that’s probably really good at a lot of things. Licking envelopes among other things.

It’s been a few minutes past way too long. It’s at the point where the joke that became unfunny would now start to become funny again, purely because it’s been so long.

Finally, Gerard figures out how to get it to stop. It’s not really that hard actually. All he really has to do is let go of the sides of Frank’s head. His hands are somewhat tangled in Frank’s hair, but he frees his hands and then sort of backs away awkwardly. 

“There,” Gerard says, taking a breath.

“Wasn’t that great,” Frank says, though he looks kind of flustered and his hair is just about everywhere. 

“Yeah?” Gerard asks. “Tell that to your boner.”

Gerard picks himself up off of the ground and walks around the couch, while Frank makes a frustrated sound, either at him or at himself. Gerard’s not sure. He’s also not sure he cares. That was mildly amusing.

“I need a swimming pool of mouthwash to get the taste of you off of me,” Gerard says, making a gagging noise as he enters the bathroom to gargle as much mouthwash as he can get his hands on.

He’s not sure what’s making him gag though. Yeah, he proved Frank wrong but at what cost? The only thing his mind can focus on now is that picture in his head of what could’ve been his life. The life where he’d married his high school sweetheart. His _childhood_ sweetheart actually. They’d have been perfect together. They’d have been like Marshall and Lily, only cuter. They would’ve been able to make people ‘aw’ whenever they heard the story of how Gerard and Frank were childhood friends, who fell in love.

Except Gerard’s lost those twenty five years, and they’re not coming back. It’s a nice fantasy, but that’s all it is, because it’s too late. He can’t have Frank. But god, he wishes that he fucking could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was somewhat more heartbreaking than I had anticipated and I apologize for that.


	17. Mikey the Voyeur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard is an eavesdropper.

Gerard really does feel like he’s at a sleepover when he wakes up with his face against the ground and people whispering behind him. His back literally feels like it’s been nailed to a plank of wood. It’s not pleasant. It’s actually pretty painful. 

The two of them aren’t being overly quiet though. Gerard can’t even help himself from listening in on them the moment he hears them talking.

Gerard misses the first thing Mikey says, but he hears Frank’s response to it, even though he’s trying to whisper.

Frank says, “Not like it meant anything.”

“No, because making out with someone doesn’t mean anything these days,” Mikey replies, and Gerard’s heart falls. He cannot believe Frank told him. Why on earth would Frank tell him? Mikey probably would’ve figured it out on his own, but seriously? Frank is an idiot. 

Gerard decides not to move, because he’s interested to hear what else the two have to say. So what if he’s an eavesdropper? If they really wanted to keep things secret, they wouldn’t be talking here.

“It wasn’t like that,” Frank says.

“Frank, you were making out for like four solid minutes. I mean, I’m not good at counting, but it felt like that much.”

“You’re just really creepy. I mean, who pretends to be asleep? That’s just stupid. You are a voyeuristic pervert.”

“It worked,” Mikey replies. Gerard curses to himself. He’s not at all sure how he let that happen. He should’ve been able to tell if Mikey was actually sleeping. He supposes that this means he probably has no reason to be angry at Frank then, because he didn’t actually tell Mikey anything. He’s going to be mad anyway. He’s mad that all of a sudden he’s really longing for a parallel universe where he and Frank had been friends. That’s all Frank’s fault. He’s not sure how, but Gerard will still blame him. 

“But it’s creepy!” Frank says, “Like, who pretends to sleep just to peep on his brother making out on someone? That’s weird!”

“I didn’t know things would go as well as they did. I just knew that it’d force you to talk, and you did, but then you made out, which was not a part of the immediate plan, but it was on the long list, so I’d say it’s okay. Though, I was banking on you guys holding hands first.”

“Is that why you tried to make us hold hands last night?” Frank asks. “That’s weird. You’re, like, an evil... well I was going to say genius, but you’re not if you honestly think I like Gerard. So what’s the ultimate thing on your list for me and Gerard?”

“Well I’ve left it basically open after your wedding so as not to put too much pressure on you, but I’m planning on you two at least making gingerbread houses with your small people.”

“Small people? Kids?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Mikeyway, sometimes I question just how human you actually are,” Frank states.

Gerard can practically hear Mikey shrugging. He tries to stay as quiet and motionless as he possibly can so that he can dig up something bad that Frank might admit to Mikey, but he wouldn’t admit to Gerard. Maybe Mikey will ask the question Gerard’s dying to know the answer to. What is his mother so disappointed in him over?

“You know what’ll really get Gerard to fall in love with you?” Mikey asks.

“Whatever it is, I must avoid it at all costs.”

“He’s totally got the hots for anyone in a band. You should take him to one of your shows. Are you guys any good?”

“Good enough to pay the rent.”

Mikey says, “Gerard would totally want to get into your pants if he saw you play. I mean, he does already, but that might push him over the edge. He probably already dreams about you and-”

“Ah! No! Don’t finish that sentence! You’re disgusting Mikey.”

“I’m trying to set my brother up with his soulmate. Niceties have to be set aside for a process as delicate as this one,” Mikey replies. 

“Since when were you one for being nice? Frank asks.

“I’m very nice, I’ll have you know. Or at least... I’ve never been caught for murdering anyone, so that’s something.”

“You know, I can’t actually tell half the time whether you’re joking or not.”

“This is why you should do your best not to cross me.”

“But you want me to marry your brother, so you’re not gonna hurt me. Right?” Frank asks hopefully.

“We’ll see. I will still stab you in the jugular if you hurt him.”

“Define ‘hurt.’ I only ask because I do insult him regularly and you never seem to have a problem with that, but I want to know where the line is,” Frank says.

“Insult him all you want, I don’t care. You have an insult based love affair, and that’s fine with me. I mean that I will kill you if you make him cry or want to cry.”

“Fair enough.”

“You need to answer a question for me, Frank,” Mikey says, changing the subject about as quickly as it’s possible for a subject to be changed. He does that sometimes. It’s easier to just say what he wants to say rather than waste time with formalities. He would make a really awful therapist. Or any job where he had to interact with people who didn’t already know him.

“No, don’t waste time with sensual conversation, just ask whatever it is that you need to know,” Frank says, because he’s probably used to it.

“I intended to,” Mikey responds, “forgive my bluntness, but Frank, you’re not unattractive, so I’ve come up with three possibilities for why you’re not married yet. Either you are crazy, which is completely possible. I mean I did know you as a kid, but insanity comes in all shapes and sizes. The second possibility is that you were recently in a relationship that ended, and probably not so well considering that you haven’t brought anything up about him. The third, and what I’d say is the most likely possibility is that you are totally hung up on someone, and I have a very good idea as to who that someone is. Namely, his initials are GW, with an ‘erard’ in there somewhere. Maybe he shares the middle name of some legendary English king who maybe ruled over Camelot. But that’s just a theory.”

“You have some serious delusions,” Frank says.

“Well how close was I with the other two theories? I’d considered that you might have had a really busying job, but that doesn’t seem like it’s it, because you never seem to actually be working.”

“Well, I mean,” Frank starts, and then makes a sighing sound, “I guess you’re kind of close, but not. Just, why do you care?”

“Because, as your future brother in law, I need to know these things. Which one of them was the closest?” Mikey questions. “Why did I even bother asking? It’s the last one isn’t it?”

“You really think you’ve got me all figured out don’t you?”

“Don’t I? Maybe a little bit?”

Frank groans, “not exactly.”

“Well, correct me where I’m wrong then.”

“It’s just...” Frank stops, like he’s thinking. “It’s not an easy thing, really. My life’s incredibly fucked up right now, Mikey.”

“You say that in a serious way, which is either a bore because I’m being insensitive, or you’re just a dick who’s trying to make me feel bad for being insensitive. But I’ll bite, what’s up?”

“It’s not important.”

“Yeah, but you’re going to make me feel guilty, and I don’t like feeling guilty, okay?” Mikey says.

“You’re definitely not human,” Frank states.

“What is it?” Mikey asks.

“Combination of maybe two of those.”

“You were hung up on Gerard because you’re a crazy sociopath?” Mikey suggests.

“Nope, I’d keep guessing if I were you. That doesn’t mean I’ll give you a straight answer though.”

“Well what is it? You broke up with a guy and it was messy, because you’re secretly in love with Gerard and always have been?”

“You just won’t give up.”

“Never. Frank I’m never gonna give you up.”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Frank says, making an annoyed sound.

“Never gonna let you down.”

“Shut up!” Frank shouts, trying to be quiet.

“You know you love me. Not as much as you love Gerard, but you love me.”

“Speaking of Gerard, when is your log of a brother going to fucking wake up?”

“Well if you kick him then he might wake up,” Mikey says. Gerard wishes he could just pop up and announce that he’s awake, but that would probably reveal that he’s been awake the whole time. So unfortunately, he’s probably just going to have to wait for someone to kick him. That doesn’t sound fun. At least he probably doesn’t have a moustache drawn on his face. Silver linings are still a bitch.

Someone throws a pillow at his head, which gives him a great opportunity to pretend he’d been asleep the whole time. Gerard’s honestly not sure what he’s even learned. He knows that Frank’s not all that dark and somewhat mysterious past has got him being melodramatic. Well possibly dark. Probably not though. 

“What was that for?” Gerard asks.

“You were asleep and it was annoying,” Frank says.

“Why does that mean you need to wake me up?” Gerard says, sitting up, and feeling the ache in his back more thoroughly. It feels like he was on a slab for a million years. 

“What were you two talking about?” Gerard asks.

“How do you know we were talking?”

“We weren’t talking,” Mikey insists.

Gerard rolls his eyes, because even _Mikey’s_ face is transparent. He was pretending not to be awake, but even if he had been asleep, they’d be bad liars.

“Ugh, whatever then,” Gerard says, pretending he doesn’t care while also simultaneously working through a million possibilities as to what Frank’s reason for not being married is. If it’s a combination of two than Gerard figures it must be the insanity and the recent break up, because it’s definitely not the one about him being in love with Gerard. Maybe Frank’s ex was the insane one, and that’s why it’s a combination. Or maybe Frank actually is insane. He doesn’t seem to be insane to Gerard, but then again, a lot of serial killers seem like normal people too. Gerard thinks he can pretty safely rule out serial killer though, given the fact that his first target would have been Gerard, and Gerard’s still alive, so no serial killing for him.

Maybe he’s a really bad boyfriend. Maybe he’s overly obsessive. Maybe that’s what the ‘insanity’ is. The most likely option is that Gerard’s reading way too much into this. It’s not going to get him anywhere to dwell on it. Yet dwell he must, because now he’s all of a sudden feeling extremely jealous of a plausible boyfriend that Frank may or may not have even had. 

Gerard feels dread inside him when he realizes that the feelings are still there. The ones he’d felt last night, the ones where he’d almost longed for Frank, he can still feel those feelings. Those aren’t fake. They weren’t brought on by lack of sleep either, evidently, because he’s awake now and he still has feelings for Frank.

Gerard looks up at Frank, and the instant he does, Frank looks away. Gerard’s not sure, but he gets the feeling that Frank might have been looking at him. Gawking even. Gerard studies his profile for a second as he yawns and he sees Frank biting his lip.

He decides that he must be imagining things. There’s no way Frank was looking at him, and there’s definitely no way he was biting his lip while doing so. Gerard’s just being too hopeful. He’s going to get his hopes up, because Mikey’s plans, they won’t pan out. Gerard’s never actually going to end up with Frank, and he knows that. It kind of sucks to have to accept that, because he can’t believe how amazing the life they might have together would be, but it’s the state of the world. He just has to accept it.

That doesn’t mean the state of the world doesn’t suck though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment maybe?


	18. Be Wary Where You Meddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard Way, master eavesdropper, snooper, and sticker of his nose in business that is not his own.

“He’s going to be gone forever, I just know it,” Gerard groans.

“Would you relax?” Frank says, looking like he’s ready to smack Gerard. He probably is. All he needs is a good reason.

“You know Mikey well enough to know that him saying ‘I’m just going to run out for coffee’ means something more like ‘I want to leave you two together so that you rip each other’s clothes off.’ But now that I think about it, you might like that.”

“Oh, give it a break, would you?” Frank says, turning his face in the other direction, Gerard assumes because he’s hiding the fact that he just turned pink. Gerard can see the tips of his ears turning a dark shade of red, so that’s pretty much a confirmed fact.

“I will not,” Gerard says. “You wanted me to kiss you last night.”

“No I did not,” Frank replies.

“You totally did. You like me, and you don’t even like me in the purely aesthetic way like you claim. You actually like me. You like me the way I like David Bowie.”

“Okay, seriously? Gerard, don’t flatter yourself. No one could ever possibly like you the way they like David Bowie. He’s a god, and you, you’re a strange little man with no career and no friends,” Frank says, still not looking at Gerard.

“You’re grasping at straws a little there, aren’t you? You can stop pretending anything. I’m not that dumb, and you know I’m not that dumb either.”

“Well Gerard, which one of us got below a C in math every year of high school.”

“That is so not fair. I got a C+ one year.”

“Oh wow. Round of applause for the guy who almost didn’t pass school because he doesn’t know the difference between a numerator and a denominator.”

Gerard rolls his eyes, “Like anyone ever cares what goes on top and what goes on the bottom of a fraction.”

“I care who’s on top,” Frank shrugs. 

“That is not at all what I was talking about,” Gerard says, making a face.

“I still care,” Frank replies.

“You’re disgusting.”

“So why is it that you like me if I’m so disgusting?”

“I’m not the one who likes you here, Frank. You’re the one who gets horny when he kisses his childhood enemies.”

“That, I, that...” Frank drifts off, “doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because it just doesn’t!”

Gerard scoffs, “You’re so willing to insult me, but the minute you kissed me, it turned you on. You’re such a fucking hypocrite! You can’t even own up to the fact that you’re attracted to me. You’re pathetic.”

“I am not! You’re one to talk though, Gerard. You didn’t exactly seem all that torn up last night either. I mean, let’s not forget who stuck who’s tongue in who’s mouth.”

“I was proving a point.”

“The only point you proved was that you like me!” Frank shouts, looking at Gerard now, with a different kind of red in his face. Right now he looks like a viable candidate for turning into the Incredible Hulk. 

“You’re seriously mistaken if you actually think I like you based on the fact that I was proving a point.”

“Oh god, I’d tell you to go to hell, but they’d treat you too nicely considering how much of a shitdick you are.”

“Grow up,” Gerard says, rolling his eyes.

“I just,” Frank starts, but then stops when his tongue fails him. “Don’t even want to look at you right now.”

“That’s how I feel whenever I’m around you.”

“Fuck off,” Frank groans, turning around and heading towards a door down his hallway. Gerard assumes it’s Frank’s bedroom, though he’s never actually seen it. He’s kind of curious to be perfectly honest. There’s the sound of a door slamming and when Gerard looks down the hall he sees that Frank is gone and the door he’d guessed was his bedroom is closed.

Gerard just sighs and looks around the kitchen to see what he can meddle with. Part of him wants to booby trap Frank’s apartment with banana peels, while the other half of him also kind of wants to fuck Frank against a wall. His mind is a very conflicted place.

Gerard looks around the kitchen counter, seeing Frank’s phone just sitting there. He also sees Frank’s wallet, and he’s not sure which one he most wants to look through. 

Gerard checks the door again to see if Frank is coming out anytime soon, but he doesn’t even hear any sound of him. Gerard reaches for Frank’s phone first.

As Gerard had expected, the phone is password protected. After trying the year Frank was born and they year he graduated, Gerard decides he’s probably not going to be able to guess it, so he sets the phone back on the counter. Then Gerard grabs the wallet. He stops himself from stealing cash, because he’s not that kind of person. He wants to be that kind of person so that he can pay a taxi to get home, but Frank doesn’t have that much cash anyway. He has six dollars and a filled out coffee punch card, but Gerard doesn’t know where the coffee place is, so he decides not to take that either. 

Gerard’s not exactly sure what he’s expecting to find in Frank’s wallet. Credit cards? A condom? A secret map disclosing the location of the lost city of Atlantis? Gerard’s not sure. He just knows that he’s itching to find some dirt on Frank. Anything he can use. Maybe he’s looking for something that grosses him out so much he loses all attraction he feels for Frank. That would be ideal, but it’s not like Frank has a confession of being mass murderer hidden in the folds of his wallet anywhere. 

The thing that Gerard does end up finding is not at all what he’d expected. Actually, it’s two things. Neither of which were things he was expecting.

The first thing catches Gerard’s eye more so, because it’s him. Like literally him. It’s his face. His face. Gerard’s face. The face that belongs to Gerard which is directly connected to his forehead and neck. The face he’s using to look at the picture of his own face now in his hands. It’s not, by any measure, a new picture. It’s a very old picture. But it’s still him. Gerard may not look like his little six year old self anymore, but it’s still _him_. That face still belongs to him. 

Gerard’s having a really long moment of disbelief at the fact that this is in Frank’s wallet. A picture of him as a small little toddler in Frank’s wallet. A picture of him and Frank to be technical, but the side with Frank is a little more frayed and Gerard seems more to be the focal point of the picture. It’s freaking him out a little bit. 

Then the second thing Gerard sees is another picture. This picture doesn’t have Gerard in it, but it’s a lot more recent and Gerard is almost lost for words at what he’s looking at. He sees Frank, and he sees another guy, a cute looking guy, but he looks like a dog biscuit when you compare him to Frank. Frank has about a ninety nine percent chance of being more attractive than everyone he’s in a picture with, so it’s not surprising that he’s prettier than the guy next to him. The guy next to Frank looks, Gerard’s not sure why, like a musical theater kind of dude. He’s just got that look to him. Like he’d make one hell of a Fiyero. 

But the way that this guy is looking at Frank makes Gerard feel like he’s literally being burned at the stake with jealousy. Why on earth do other people get to look at Frank like that? Gerard can’t look at Frank like that because then everyone will know how he feels, and no one can know how he feels. He doesn’t even like knowing _himself_ how he feels. So why does this guy get to look at Frank like he’s made out of starlight? 

It’s obvious by the nature of the picture that the dude is probably romantically involved with Frank. Or was, more accurately. Frank’s haircut is much more overgrown in the picture than it is now, which is a pretty good indicator that time has passed. Gerard really wishes he didn’t know that. It’s not like it’s his fault that Frank’s hair is really easy to identify. It looks like it’d probably be fun to pull on.

Gerard really has to stop thinking like that. He cannot think about Frank like this. He can’t be jealous of whoever this musical theater boyfriend guy was or is. He just can’t think like that. 

But Frank’s obviously not dating anyone. There’s just no chance he could be in a relationship right now. Besides, if he were, why on earth would he be letting Gerard set him up? Why on earth would his mother have told Gerard’s mom that he’s single? So Frank obviously can’t be in a relationship.

If that’s the case though, then why does Frank have this guy’s picture? Why does he have a picture of a guy who he was obviously dating at one point or another? Frank must still like him to keep his picture. 

Gerard has the thought that the dude might be dead. That makes him feel kind of guilty, because what if Frank’s ex-boyfriend isn’t his ex by choice, and he’s actually dead? That would make Gerard feel like a really horrible person. He thinks that’s probably unlikely though. Frank doesn’t seem like he’s mourning anyone. He just doesn’t have that feeling hanging around him. Maybe the guy broke up with Frank then, and Frank didn’t want them to break up. Maybe Frank just completely forgot to take the picture out of his wallet. That seems unlikely as well. You don’t just leave a picture of your ex in your wallet if you hate him. That doesn’t make any sense. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” a voice says behind him and Gerard literally almost screams. He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he’d forgotten to look out for Frank.

When Gerard turns around, his eyes huge in terror and surprise, he sees Frank looking at him like he’s about to murder everything Gerard loves.

“I, uh,” is what Gerard ends up saying, because there’s no way for him to defend himself against this. He’s been caught red handed, digging through Frank’s wallet. How on earth did he not even hear Frank coming? He’s so stupid it’s unbelievable. 

“You fucking asshole!” Frank yells at him, grabbing the wallet from Gerard’s hands. One of the pictures falls to the floor as Frank grabs for it, and Gerard bends down to pick it up. He focuses his attention away from the fact that bending down leads him to be right in front of Frank’s crotch.

Gerard grabs the picture of Frank with the guy, his thumb covering up the guys face, and then he pulls himself back up to hand it to Frank. Frank has literally never looked at Gerard with more anger than he has right now. Gerard wouldn’t even be surprised if Frank literally stabbed him to death. 

“Wh-who’s the guy?” Gerard asks when Frank snatches the photo from him, nearly ripping it. 

“None of your fucking business, thief,” Frank says.

“I didn’t steal anything! I swear. I was just looking through it,” Gerard says and the instant he says it, he knows that the truth doesn’t sound much better. It’s still really creepy.

“Like that’s any better. What the fuck were you thinking?” Frank shouts.

“I don’t know. I just, you stormed off, and you just left it there. I was curious.”

“You’re such a creep!”

“Says the guy with a picture of me as a toddler in his wallet!”

“That’s nothing,” Frank says.

“Nothing? Then why do you even have it?” Gerard asks.

“I just do. I don’t know why.”

“Well if it’s nothing then why don’t you just tear it in half?”

“Because,” Frank shrugs.

“Because why?”

“Just because!” Frank insists.

“Because _why_? If it’s nothing, then why don’t you just tear it up?”

“Just because, okay?”

“That’s not an answer!”

“Because I don’t want to! Okay? You happy?” Frank screams, almost loud enough to wake up the whole city. 

“What does that even mean?” Gerard asks.

“I don’t fucking know, okay?”

“But you hate me. We hate each other. That’s our thing. You can’t just have a picture of us as kids in your wallet!” Gerard says, trying to understand any of what’s going on, but he’s failing miserably.

“Yeah, well, you were also my best friend once,” Frank replies firmly.

“How is this... how are we... what even is this?” Gerard asks.

“What?”

“Why are we even talking to each other? Why am I in your apartment? What the fuck is even going on? You and I, we shouldn’t even be in the same room together! So why are we?” 

“Good question.”

“I just,” Gerard groans, and looks around the room for a moment. “I just, I want to leave.”

“What?” Frank asks, just as Gerard starts to head for the front door. He feels all of a sudden horribly out of place. Unlike any other feeling he’s had before. Gerard just feels wrong being in Frank’s apartment. Just looking at him makes him feel wrong. Sick even. 

Because he hates Frank. He’s supposed to hate him and he does, or he wants to at least, but now he feels sick to his stomach because Frank had a boyfriend who’s probably prettier than him and they might not be together anymore, but Frank’s not with Gerard either. And Frank has a picture of the two of them when they were still friends, and it’s just all too much. 

Gerard’s been around Frank far too long. Anytime at all really is too long, but it’s making his head get the wrong idea. He can’t think about Frank like that, it’s disgusting. Well, it’s not, but it should be. 

“Gerard!” Frank calls after him, but he’s running out of the apartment as quickly as he can. He’ll run all the way home if he has to. Being around Frank keeps confusing him. He can’t do it. It’s too hard. 

Gerard almost runs into Mikey when he’s leaving the building and Mikey gives him this angry look before he gives him a confused one.

“What’s up?” 

“I just, Mikey, I can’t do this.”

“What?” 

“Not right now. Okay? Not now. I can’t be around him,” Gerard says.

“Why?” Mikey asks, jogging to catch up with Gerard who doesn’t seem to know where he’s going. It’s doubtful that he even has a destination in mind other than away from here. 

“I don’t know,” Gerard confesses, “I just know that it’s getting to be too hard to play this game for much longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to write here to get you to leave a comment. My dad has always told me to use my manners. Please?


	19. Deal With It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Admission expedition.

Gerard kind of wants Mikey to go away, but at the same time he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to be alone, but he doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He’s just in one of those hard to describe moods that’s making him get all fidgety and nervous. 

“Are we going to talk about it or are you just going to go sit in the corner and rock back and forth?”

“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” Gerard replies.

“Well you were doing just fine, then I leave for like, twenty minutes and when I come back, you look like you’d just witnessed a murder. Wait, you didn’t kill Frank did you?” Mikey asks.

“No!” Gerard says defensively, “I just, god, I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know why we’re all of a sudden talking to each other. You left the two of us alone! Ten years ago, we shouldn’t have been left alone together because we’d probably have scalped each other. But now, I don’t even know what’s going on between him and me.”

“Well, back then, you were immature and young. Now, you’ve grown up. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Mikey says.

“Well, maybe not. But what is wrong is that I don’t know, I don’t, like, loathe him, I think? I mean, I hate him, of course I do, but I also don’t. I don’t know what the hell that means, but it’s got my brain turning to mush.”

“So you do like him?”

“No! I never said that.”

“It was implied.”

“It was not implied,” Gerard says. “I don’t like him.”

“Look, Gerard, I saw you kiss him last night, okay? That was not a ‘look at me proving a point’ sort of kiss. That was a ‘I’ve been stifling my crush on you for about twenty years’ kind of kiss. Like, dude, it was verging on literal porn.”

“You’re such a creep, Mikey.”

“I know, but that’s not my point. Gerard, you and I both know you wanted to kiss Frank, and you may pretend you didn’t want to, but you fucking did,” Mikey says.

“I don’t... I don’t like him.”

“I think you meant that you don’t _want_ to like him.”

“What’s the difference?” 

“One of those things is true, and that’s the main difference,” Mikey says. 

“I don’t like him, okay? That’s the fact of things, okay?”

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Bullshit, Gerard. Look at me,” Mikey says, “I am not an idiot. You are not fooling me. You are lying through your fucking teeth, and I’m starting to resent you for it. Gerard, I’m your best friend and I know that, but I’m also your brother, and I have permission to be completely straight with you without you cutting me off for it. You have never lied to me. Never. You never lie to me. But you are lying right now, and it’s pissing me the hell off. Give it up. I know you like him, and I’m not saying this to be an ass or to be too invasive. That is not my intention. I’m just letting you know, that I know you’re lying to me. You like Frank. End of story.”

“I don’t-”

“Gerard, I’m warning you, if you deny it again, I will smack you.”

“I-” Gerard starts, “Well, even if I did like him, and I’m not admitting anything yet, you can’t actually be sure of anything.”

“Yes I can. You just earned yourself a flick on the temple.”

Mikey leans over before Gerard has time to react and he actually does flick Gerard in the temple. 

“Ow!”

“I warned you not to lie to me,” Mikey says.

“You hit me!”

“I did. Deal with it.”

“Mikey, if it’s not true, which it isn’t, then you’ll just assume I’m lying so you’ll hit me again. I literally can’t win, because telling the truth makes me get hit, but lying makes me a bad person,” Gerard says. 

“But I know you better than anyone. You like him. Say it and I won’t hit you again.”

“But!” Gerard starts and then Mikey hits him on the back of the head, “ow! Motherfucker.”

“Say it, you dumbass!” Mikey orders. 

“You’re hitting me! What kind of a brother are you?”

“The only one you’ve got,” Mikey says.

“Ugh. This is abuse! I don’t have to admit to anything.”

“You’re so stupid,” Mikey yells. “I’m going to hit you until you admit to it.”

“You’re such a dick!” Gerard screams, whilst being assaulted by an envelope that Mikey picked up from on top of the counter. At least it’s not as painful as his elbow or something.

“Admit it!” Mikey shouts, “Gerard, you fucking loser. Admit it!”

“You’re so mean. Stop it!”

“You know how to get me to stop!” Mikey shouts, and Gerard attempts to run away from him, but Mikey’s legs are longer. He just ends up running around the kitchen island a few times. He feels like a small child again. Actually his childhood wasn’t too different than this. A lot of running around being chased by Mikey. Except Frank was usually there, and he was usually trying to make himself seem cool by chewing that nasty convenience store bubblegum he used to buy.

“You’re legally an adult, you weirdo. You can’t just chase me around my apartment hitting me with mail!” Gerard yelps. 

“You’re behaving like a kid. I am responding accordingly. Admit it! Gerard! Just say you like Frank!” 

“Fine!” 

“What?” Mikey asks.

“Fine! Okay? You win. My life is hell right now, but if it’s what you want to hear, then yes, I like Frank. I like him! I like him a lot. I like him so much that it’s starting to hurt. It’s driving me insane, I can’t even bear it, but yes, I like Frank.”

“Oh my god!” Mikey says, looking like he just found a winning lottery ticket. 

“Oh come on, calm your tits.”

“I knew it!” He shouts ecstatically. “I fucking knew it. I’m the smartest person you know, Gerard! I knew it! Oh my god, this is the best news I have ever heard. This should make headlines! Gerard Way loves Frank Iero!”

“You’re such an asshole,” Gerard says, shaking his head. 

“I finally got you to say it though! Today is a good day. Oh, I gotta write this down for my best man’s speech. It’ll be a humorous anecdote. It’ll also be moving. I’m banking on this story being picked up by Paramount or Warner Brothers, so it needs to be touching. I need people to cry, and laugh, and I want to be played by Chris Hemsworth.”

“We all know you’d be played by Michael Cera.”

“Just as good. Everyone always loves Michael Cera’s character! He’s not as handsome as me, but we’ll make it work.”

Gerard groans and puts a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what the hell is happening, because seriously, he’s not having an easy time at this. Mikey is insane, and he’s practically glowing with the words ‘I told you so’ and it’s weird. He feels like a hormonal teenager, not like a man old enough to rent a car. 

“Gerard is in love, oh my god,” Mikey says.

“I am not! Shut up. I admitted to liking him, I didn’t admit to wanting to marry him. Besides, he doesn’t-”

“If you finish that sentence with ‘he doesn’t like me’ than I swear to god I will hurt you again.”

“Well he doesn’t.”

“Fuck off,” Mikey groans, “of course he likes you. The dude got a boner from your tongue in his mouth. If that ain’t love than I don’t know what is.”

“Okay, no. Frank is just a horny little man who’s used to having sex with all the guys he meets.”

“He’s not getting into _my_ pants,” Mikey says.

“Well that’s because he would have no interest in anyone as ugly as you.”

“Gerard, if Frank thinks you’re attractive than he would definitely think that I’m attractive too. A lot prettier than you at least.”

“We all have different tastes,” Gerard says, “And you look like the backside of a camel.” 

“We all have different tastes, true, but I’m on everyone’s palate.” 

“You’re so arrogant.”

“Yes I am, because I was so right about how much you love Frank.”

“I don’t _love_ Frank.”

“You so love him,” Mikey says. 

“I need to get away from you,” Gerard says, “You’re nuts.”

“Yep, you can say that all you want, but we all know you love me.”

Gerard rolls his eyes, “Where’s that spontaneous combustion thing when you need it? And also, where’s my phone?”

“I don’t know,” Mikey shrugs.

“Fuck,” Gerard says, and his head falls down onto his kitchen counter.

“What? Why are you doing that?”

“Because I think I know where my phone is.”

“That’s a good thing,” Mikey says.

“It’s in Frank’s apartment,” Gerard groans.

“Oh. So it’s a _very_ good thing then.”

“This is in no way a good thing. Do you know what this means? I have to go back there! I have to go back to Frank’s apartment and I have to be all awkward and tell I left my phone in his house, because I’m a fucking idiot. And you know what he’s going to do? Call me an idiot. I already know it. Unless... hey Mikey did I ever tell you that you’re the best brother ever and I love you ever so much?”

“I’m not going to get your phone for you.” Mikey says, seeing straight through Gerard like he’s a window. “Save your groveling for when you can’t pay your rent next month.”

“Please?”

“Nope. Not going to happen. You are going to that apartment, and you are going to tell Frank you love him and you are going to have sex with him, and I am going to be the best man at your wedding. Deal with it.”

“None of those things is going to happen. I’m just going to go get my phone. Are you sure you won’t get it for me?” Gerard asks.

“Yes. I’m sure. I will not do your bidding for you. Least of all not when I have such a glorious opportunity to force you and Frank together.”

“You sadist.”

“I’m the opposite of a sadist! Are you kidding me? I’m doing this so that you’re happy because you’re going to marry him, and you’re going to be so grateful to me. In like, twenty years when you sit your kids down and tell them the story of how you met their father, which will last nine seasons and leave audiences incredibly pissed off and dissatisfied in the end, you will be thanking me. You are going to owe me big time.”

“I am not! I don’t like him that much. I just, I don’t know.”

“He makes you lose control of your heartbeat.”

“Right. Wait, no. No! That’s not it at all. You’re putting words in my mouth,” Gerard says.

“I am not. You totally think that. I see it in your eyes. You already admitted to liking him, you might as well admit to loving him too,” Mikey says.

“I don’t even,” Gerard starts, but his tongue gets in the way so he just groans. He turns around and starts heading for the door. He wishes his apartment was bigger so that he had more room to make a dramatic exit, but Gerard lives in a cupboard, so it’s very much on the wimpy side as far as dramatic exits go.

“Tell Frank I say hi!” Mikey calls after him, “have fun with the sex!”

“Go to hell.”

“I love you too!” Mikey calls after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you'll like next chapter, but I'm not giving anything away. I mean I did just give that away. Oh, I didn't think this through.


	20. Really Long Chapter Where All That Is Achieved Is Fucking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know how few synonyms for "kiss" there are? It's so annoying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite possibly one of the slyest references that's ever been made can be found in this chapter.

Gerard stands in front of Frank’s door for a good five minutes with his heart racing so fast it’s probably going to make the speed of light feel bad about itself. He can barely even breathe right now, because he doesn’t want to do this. Gerard’s not in any position where he’s okay with being around Frank. It just baffles him that he has to do this, because this just sucks.

Gerard almost considers forgetting the phone entirely and letting it stay there forever, because then, he can avoid Frank for the rest of their lives. He doesn’t have any missile launch codes on that phone, it’s not a huge deal, really. Except he kind of likes his phone, and it was kind of expensive, and he doesn’t have any money for a replacement. He also has pictures saved on that phone that he probably won’t want anyway, but he doesn’t remember how much of his stuff is actually on there. He really can’t just leave it. Not when he knows he can get it back.

He would be content to pretend he’d never known Frank though. He would be okay with leaving and never looking back, because from here, he doesn’t really have to have Frank in his life. He can put up with a disappointed mother, an irritated brother, all that. Anything to not see Frank. Anything to stifle this stupid crush he has. 

That’s what he keeps telling himself it is. It’s just a crush. Nothing major. Just a small little crush that he’ll be able to kill if he waits long enough. Gerard’s not sure he really believes in the phrase ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ He hopes he doesn’t believe in that phrase at least. Because, what if being away from Frank makes things worse? What if he wants Frank even more? That could be catastrophic on so many different planes. It’s not even worth thinking about. 

He doesn’t know how to avoid this inevitability though. If he stays away from Frank he might want Frank more, but if he gets too close, he might still really want Frank as well. There’s just no foreseeable situation where he can say with certainty that he won’t want Frank. Even if Frank were dead he might still not be any better. He’d probably feel worse, because then he’d be filled with those fears of what could have been. That longing sounds even more painful than the other two options he has.

Everything’s all just so fucked up.

Frank is hot, and Gerard really did think that he was just going to be able to swallow that knowledge without it having to affect him, but that didn’t happen. He thought that being attracted to Frank physically would be as far as it would go. That’s not what ended up happening either. It’s driving him insane that he can’t get rid of this stupid feeling. He just wants it gone. 

Frank has a picture of the two of them in his wallet for god’s sake. Frank keeps that with him. Wherever he goes, Gerard is literally always with him. That’s not even comprehensible. That’s just not right. Enemies don’t miss the days when they were friends. Gerard’s pretty sure he never read anything about Voldemort wanting to make friendship bracelets with Harry Potter. These things don’t happen. You don’t just have a crush on your nemesis. This isn’t right.

Except Gerard can’t help but deny that it’s what he’s feeling, and it won’t go away. 

Gerard’s hand won’t move. It won’t lift itself up and it won’t knock on Frank’s door. There’s something stopping him, every time he thinks he’s about to, he can’t actually make his fist meet the wood. It’s like someone’s tied a bungee cord to his elbow and every time Gerard is about to knock, he’s pulled back. It’s just not happening.

He can’t will the knocking to happen. His whole body is protesting. His brain is protesting pretty well too except for this annoying little voice in the back of his head telling him that he should do it. Telling him he wants to, that he should just stop being a chicken. Just knock. That’s all he has to do.

Gerard’s arm feels like it’s possessed when he loses the strength to stop himself, and all of a sudden he’s looking at his hand rattling against the front door to Frank’s apartment. He’s so angry with himself for doing this. 

Then there’s footsteps. Gerard knows that this is his last chance to run. He could just run back down the hall and down the steps and forget any of this happened. Forget he came here, forget about all the stuff on his phone that he really wishes he didn’t feel so attached to. He wishes he could just be plucked up from the earth and dropped into some parallel dimension where he has absolutely no feelings about Frank whatsoever. 

There’s rattling at the door, scratching almost, and Gerard looks at the small little peep hole, knowing Frank is probably on the other side wandering why he’s here. That’s definitely what’s running through his mind right now. He’s wondering why Gerard is back after running out not long ago. He’s thinking that he hates Gerard more than he had twenty four hours ago. Gerard’s just feeling antsy and waiting for Frank to hit him with something.

Maybe he won’t even answer. Maybe he’ll just walk away and leave Gerard there without a response. Or maybe he’ll shout at Gerard to go away. He could’ve already found Gerard’s phone and just hand it to him then slam the door shut. Or maybe he’s destroyed it to spite Gerard. Maybe he’ll do that when Gerard tells him that he lost his phone in there. There’s so many different things he might say or do, Gerard can’t process them all.

What he doesn’t expect is for Frank to open the door and look at him like _that_. 

He’s looking at Gerard in a way that can only really be described as thankfully. Gerard feels a lead lining in his lungs, and every other body part he has, making him feel weighted to the ground. Even his tongue is weighted to the bottom of his mouth just by that look in Frank’s eyes.

“I was hoping you might come back,” Frank says.

“Phone,” Gerard says, the word slipping out before he can put other words around it. He sounds stupid, his voice higher than usual. He’s successfully acting like a complete fool.

“What?”

“I left my phone. I left my phone here, somewhere. I just came back to get it,” Gerard says. 

“Oh,” Frank says, nodding, his face falling a bit. Gerard pretends it has nothing at all to do with him, and Frank instead happened to start thinking about something sad. The beginning of Up, or maybe Edward Scissorhands. Something like that. He’s not sad because Gerard just made a statement that completely blew him off. That’s not it at all.

“Can I look for it?” Gerard asks when he’s still standing in the hall, and Frank is still looking at him without moving.

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” Frank says, stepping back and letting Gerard go in before him. Gerard looks at him, wishes that he could make this less awkward, and then steps in front of Frank and into the apartment. It’s the same way that it was when Gerard left it. He’s been here way too many times in the past few days. Hell, he’s slept here the last two nights. That’s way too many times. Never would be too many times in Gerard’s book.

“Where did you, uh, last have it?” Frank asks, “Your phone I mean.”

“Here, I don’t know where though,” Gerard says. He was only ever really a few places in here. Frank doesn’t live in a mansion or anything, there’s not that many places for it to have gone. He keeps everything so clean as well, so it’s not lost in any clutter like it constantly is in Gerard’s apartment. Often he just goes without it until Mikey calls him and then he’s able to locate it more easily by the sound of the ringtone. 

Frank closes the door behind Gerard, and he’s almost startled by the sound in the eerily quiet apartment. The TV is on, but the sound has been muted, so that’s probably what Frank was doing when Gerard knocked. 

Gerard goes first to the kitchen counter, feeling Frank’s eyes on him, but he refuses to turn around and acknowledge the stare. There’s nothing there when Gerard looks around the counters so he walks over to the couch, and he can’t avoid it this time. He meets Frank’s eyes, and they hold contact for a moment before Frank breaks it. He looks in the direction that Gerard is walking, over by the couch that Gerard and Mikey have both slept on. 

Frank walks a little closer to the couch too, acting like he’s looking, and Gerard can’t tell if he actually is trying to help or if he’s just acting like it. Gerard’s not sure which would surprise him more. 

Frank seems to change his mind not long after, because he instead backs up to lean against the bare wall adjacent to the TV. He puts his hands behind his back and eyes Gerard as he searches. 

Gerard spots the phone, half-wedged under the couch, and half out in the open. He bends down to pick it up, seeing Frank watch him as he does so, and Gerard looks at the ground so that he doesn’t have to look at Frank.

“Found it,” Gerard says, straightening himself up again and holding the phone up in his hand to display it to Frank. Frank looks at it like he’s in some sort of trance, and they hold a really weird and stale silence for way too long before Gerard stows the phone into his pocket. This forces Frank to look elsewhere, and his eyes eventually land on Gerard again. 

“I should head out,” Gerard says.

“Uh, before you go,” Frank says, catching Gerard mid step as he makes the move to stride over to the door. 

“Yeah?”

“Well, I just wanted to talk to you for a second.”

“About?” Gerard asks.

“About that, well, uh, kiss.”

“Oh. I, uh, we can forget about it if that’s what you want. It was weird, and we don’t have to acknowledge that it ever happened.

“That’s not really what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What? But you said you wanted to talk about the kiss,” Gerard says.

Frank nods, “Yes, I did say that, and I do mean it, but a different part of it is what I want to talk about.”

“Wh-what part?”

“Well the, like, the afterward bit,” Frank replies, turning pinkish.

“Oh, yeah, we could forget about that too if you want.”

“Well, see, the thing is that,” Frank stops, and takes a deep breath, seemingly getting more confidence as he starts up again. “The thing is, it wasn’t even that good a kiss. Like, really, we just don’t really fit together in any way, you know. You and I, we don’t make any sense. I just wanted to tell you, was that, like, what happened afterward, that was just a coincidence really. Like, it wasn’t because of you. That, it just, like, happened. It happens sometimes.”

“Yeah, to teenagers,” Gerard says, not even really sure what he’s hearing. Is Frank actually trying to tell him that it was a coincidence that he popped a boner right as Gerard kissed him? That’s not an accident. That’s an immediate cause to effect, and every science teacher that Gerard ever despised would back him up on this. Also, the number of times Frank just said ‘like’ totally shows the transparency of his story. 

“Well, you know, I just want you to know that it wasn’t you.”

“You’re lying,” Gerard says assuredly.

“I am not. It was totally just a weird happenstance. I promise,” Frank replies. 

“No. I don’t believe you,” Gerard says stepping forward, closer to Frank. They weren’t all that far from each other to begin with so now there’s only a foot left. 

“But I’m telling you the truth. I mean this. I’m-”

“Okay, save it.”

“You’re so annoying,” Frank rolls his eyes, and all of a sudden, Gerard’s feeling better. Frank’s being a jerk, and a twat, and denying something they both know to be the truth. It makes him easier to hate. Makes Gerard feel a lot less like someone’s wrapping a noose around his neck to choke him. 

“And you’re such a liar,” Gerard says.

“I’m not a liar! It really was completely coincidental.”

“Yeah right. So you’re telling me that this,” Gerard steps forward and completely erases the space between them, pushing Frank against the wall. That’s really all the buildup there is before Gerard’s making out with Frank. Like full on make out. Not the PG stuff. Gerard’s not sure what makes him do it, he’s not sure who’s at the steering wheel behind his motor control, because this is not him. He doesn’t just push guys against walls and then kiss them angrily. That’s not who he is.

When Gerard pulls away, not that long after, it’s to finish the sentence that he doesn’t even remember starting. “ _That_ wasn’t what caused your boner?”

“Absolutely not,” Frank says, and then he’s grabbing the back of Gerard’s head, and he’s actually pulling Gerard _back_. He’s not punching him in the face or kneeing him in the balls. He’s literally pulling Gerard back to a point that they’re kissing again. 

And Gerard’s not stopping it. He’s not kind of stopping it. He’s not sort of stopping it. He’s not even a little bit stopping it. He’s absolutely going for it. Once more with feeling is an understatement, because Frank’s hands are in his hair, and Gerard’s hands are against his chest, pressing Frank to the wall so that he can’t escape. He could if he wanted to but, he doesn’t seem to want to. 

“Not a very good kiss at all,” Frank mumbles. Gerard shuts him up, because he can’t stop this kiss. Like he could, but he can’t. He just wants to keep kissing Frank. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t care why. He doesn’t understand how this is happening, but he’s got enough common sense to figure that it _is_ happening. And it’s perfect.

Gerard has that voice in the back of his head again, giving him the same message except louder this time. It’s telling him that he really wants this, and it’s so shrill and convincing that Gerard listens to it. Some other part of him is saying to stop this. It’s too weird. He’s kissing Frank. This is wrong. That voice is being beaten by the other one though. It’s so easy to listen to the first voice, the one telling him to stick his tongue down Frank’s throat, that the other voice might as well not even be there at all.

“What’re we doing,” Someone says, and it takes Gerard a moment to realize that it had been him. That was his voice, the real one attached to his vocal chords that had said that. He’s so freaked out by how many times he’s said and done things he doesn’t remember deciding to do.

“Proving a point.”

“What point?” Gerard asks.

“That you and I, we’d be really shitty together,” Frank says, and then his mouth is at Gerard’s throat and the only word in Gerard’s mind is ‘god’ except really long and stringed out. 

“Yeah,” Gerard nods, voice meek, “we’d be awful. Really awful.”

“’Cause you’re a horrible kisser,” Frank says, “and you’re probably really awful in bed.”

“You probably are too,” Gerard says. He’s not sure what’s happening, or what they’re saying, and everything seems like he just stepped into the lusty dream of a closeted fifteen year old boy, but he’s okay with it. He’s totally okay with the fact that Frank’s probably going to bruise his neck if he keeps that up. He’s okay with the fact that he’s going to have to invest in wearing a scarf for the next week. He’s okay with the fact that Mikey is going to give him endless shit for what is happening right now. He’s okay with it all, because he really likes it. 

Maybe it’s just been too long since Gerard got laid and that’s why he’s totally willing to let Frank fucking Iero suck on his neck. That’s probably not it. He knows what the most probable reason for why he’s into this is, but that doesn’t mean he has to admit to it.

“God, we could never be together though. You’re just so not my type,” Frank says. Gerard feels like he’s the one being pressed to the wall, but he’s not, and he doesn’t know why he can’t will his feet to move away. This is so weird. He’s not even the one controlling himself anymore. Some alien has landed inside his head and it’s in charge of everything he’s saying or doing. And Gerard isn’t protesting to what that alien is making him do, which is strange. 

“Yeah,” Gerard agrees, and then Frank is grabbing him by the back of the neck and kissing him again. Kissing him like he’s run out of air and Gerard swallowed an oxygen tank. Kissing him like if they stop, Frank will fall off of the earth. Gravity will just let go of him and he’ll fall into space. 

It’s an intense kiss. One with Frank’s hands at the back of his neck, prying him closer, and with Gerard’s hands on Frank’s sides, because he can’t think of a better place to put them. He’s already got Frank against a wall, there’s not much he can do to keep him there more than that already does. 

And then Gerard’s eyes spring open, he wasn’t aware he’d even closed them, but they open as soon as one of Frank’s hands starts to drift. First it’s moving from behind his neck to his shoulder, and then it just keeps going. Across his chest, down his side, to his hip, along his hip and then the ultimate destination is to a place that makes Gerard make a squeaking sound. 

“Oh so who’s got a boner now?” Frank teases, and Gerard can practically hear the smirk. 

But Gerard decides that two can play at that game. So he removes one of his hands from Frank’s side, and then feels Frank grab his hand before he can even do anything with it. 

“Not yet.”

“Whaaaa,” Gerard starts but it gets stuck in his throat when Frank’s pulling on his arm, practically dragging him across the floor. And maybe Gerard’s mind keeps flashing him in and out of conscious thought. One second he’s being pulled through the living room, the next second, he’s in Frank’s bedroom.

He hadn’t gotten to see it before, but it’s very... well, Frank. Quite tidy for a bedroom, probably because Frank is the neat freak of all neat freaks. It also looks like a high schoolers’ room though because no self-respecting adult has a Black Flag poster above his bed, but then again, Gerard can’t help but think how _Frank_ that is. It’s just so like him. This couldn’t be anyone else’s room.

Gerard doesn’t have time to dwell on that though, because Frank’s backing up, with Gerard’s belt loops around his thumbs. It’s an awkward way to control someone in any other circumstance, but here it’s just driving Gerard off the wall. 

When the backs of Frank’s knees hit the mattress he makes a coordinated drop backward, toppling Gerard with him. He’s got enough sense to make sure that he doesn’t land precisely on top of Frank and knee him in the leg or something. This means that he ends up basically straddling Frank, which has only ever happened once before and it was in a dream that Gerard woke up from with his hand down his own pants.

It’s return of the alien controlling Gerard Way’s motor movements, because he’s barely in control of it when he’s undoing Frank’s zipper. That’s something he never thought he’d do. Frank’s zipper. _Frank’s_. The guy who once put cow shit in his locker. That Frank. 

“What am I doing?” Gerard whispers, more to himself than to Frank. The jeans are unzipped and rolled down Frank’s thighs, but he can’t get them any further than that right now. Frank’s not exactly an innocent party though. Seriously? He had made fun of Gerard’s hard-on, while he’s sporting a tent in his boxers too? Frank’s a hypocrite.

“Proving a point,” Frank reminds him. Gerard’s not sure that this is really going to prove the point they’re hoping it will. He’s not sure how the fact that Frank being a fantastic kisser is going to prove that he’s bad at it. He’s not sure how any of this is in any way doing what they’re hoping. It’s completely counterintuitive. Then again, Gerard’s pretty sure it’s not actually supposed to prove those points. He’s pretty sure the point they’re proving is that they both really want to fuck each other, and they have to get it out of the way so that they can stop daydreaming about it all the time. That’s pretty much what they’re doing, he thinks. 

“Right,” Gerard replies. He’s not sure what he’s responding to. His memory isn’t so good right now. There’s Frank’s hand at his pants, prying with the clasp, and there’s Gerard doing his best not to rub up against the man underneath him. There’s this small rasping coming from his throat, and this breathing in his ear that is so hot it’s almost making him lose his composure right here. He doesn’t even process the fact that Frank’s biting at his ear lobe, because all he can think about is that he can hear every intake and outtake of breath coming from Frank’s mouth. 

“Oh my god,” Gerard says quietly, feeling Frank get the pants undone. His hand has been shoved into Gerard’s underwear, leaving him mumbling obscenities like it’s all he lives for.

“Shit,” Frank says, and Gerard remembers where he is after a moment. He’s barely keeping himself from lying on top of Frank, just a shaky arm away from dropping. Gerard’s brain thinks quickly and he decides to take care of these annoying pants that are getting in the way. Frank seems to figure out what he’s trying to do. Frank takes his hand that was around Gerard, and helps Gerard pull down one side of the pants while Gerard gets the other. Gerard feels kind of lost though when Frank’s hand isn’t there anymore, but he just tells himself to get things done quickly. The pants get stuck on his knee, but he lifts his leg up and then they’re finally off, which feels like a big relief. 

Frank’s already started pulling his own trousers off when Gerard looks down at him, and they’re a lot easier to remove than Gerard’s had been. As soon as Frank kicks them off, he’s pulling Gerard shirt collar down to force Gerard to kiss him. Gerard gladly lets his tongue roam around Frank’s mouth like he’s searching for something, and Gerard really will give him anything. He can’t help himself from wanting every single inch of this man.

“Ah,” Frank makes a noise that Gerard’s never heard before from probably anyone. It’s a result of Gerard making the decision to put his knee between Frank’s legs. He’s so hard against Gerard’s leg, that he’s barely even able to figure out that it’s because of _him_ that that happened. The noise that Frank makes though, gives Gerard this feeling that he wouldn’t mind buying in excess to feel again. It’s the best sound in the world. 

Gerard’s eyes strain to open so that he can look at Frank, who’s really up close since their lips are still locked. Frank’s face is so soft up close. So much prettier than Gerard ever would have thought. His eyelids are so delicate, and his lashes are long against the top of his cheek. He’s fucking gorgeous. Gerard loses his breath not because of the kiss, but because of that fact that Frank is so unbelievably attractive it’s not even healthy. It’s like looking directly at the sun.

Gerard can’t honestly have overlooked how beautiful Frank was in high school. How could he have let that go unnoticed? He’s probably the most attractive person Gerard’s ever seen up close, and he didn’t notice? Frank was pretty pimply and greasy back then, because most teenage boys are, but still, he was at least good looking. He’s breathtaking now. Well, not really, because Gerard can’t even breathe looking at him.

Gerard notices Frank’s hand doing something and he doesn’t know what, so he breaks the kiss to see Frank trying to get Gerard’s shirt over his head. Gerard lifts his arms enough for it to come free, and as soon as he does, he’s helping Frank out of his.

Gerard’s half naked in Frank’s apartment. This was unexpected to say the least. 

If Frank had been breathtaking a minute ago than Gerard is going into cardiac arrest now. He gets his shirt off and then a heavenly choir starts playing in Gerard’s ears because _wow_.

“Holy fuck,” is all Gerard can actually enunciate, because Frank shirtless is a sight to behold. There’s no doing him credit. No words that could give credit to the way he looks right now. No possible way for Gerard to ever be able to get across what it’s like seeing him. All he can think is that he wants to trace his fingers over every line of ink along Frank’s torso. It’s not even possible that he feels this way. 

Frank smirks, and Gerard doesn’t even care. That’s probably a first. Gerard has never ever let Frank get away with smirking without having something to say about it, but Frank is smirking right now and he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it. Frank’s shirtless. It’s a win for Gerard. 

Gerard can barely even help himself from letting his fingers wonder over Frank’s chest, copying the tattoos there like he’s been hypnotized into doing so. He has been though. It’s Frank’s eyes. Those eyes, they must be crystal balls. Gerard can’t think straight right now looking squarely into Frank’s eyes. Hazel, but almost green, pupils overtaking the lighter color. Like a solar eclipse with the light bleeding out behind the dark sun. 

Frank’s leaning up to him though, and catching Gerard off guard when he kisses him. For a second, it’s not rough like they’re trying to get this over with to hopefully push their feelings for each other away. It’s not a kiss like Frank needs him. It’s a kiss that Gerard used to dream about having with the love of his life when he was a kid. The kind of kiss that’s barely even a kiss, where his lips barely even met with another person’s. The kind of kiss that you give someone when you don’t particularly care about making them want you, just the kind where you really want to kiss that person. 

It’s gone after a minute though, replaced by Frank turning his head away, and falling back against the bedspread below him. Gerard’s not even sure if it really happened or if he was just pretending it had in his own mind. 

Gerard’s still caught up in a train of thought, not considering what’s happening when he sees Frank’s hands at the hem of his boxers. Gerard feels the back of Frank’s fingers where they graze against the skin of Gerard’s hips, and it’s too intimate. It’s much too gentle and not enough of the angry kisses they were sharing. Not enough of the animal side of Gerard wanting to tear Frank to shreds. It’s too much like that kiss.

Gerard doesn’t like it. That’s not the truth though. He likes it too much. He likes it way too much to let it go on, so Gerard gets a hand at Frank’s underwear as well, and he’s pulling the garment down Frank’s legs greedily, like he doesn’t care about making anything last. Like he wants it over with. 

Gerard likes that calm river too much, and that’s why he needs to make it to the waterfalls. It’s too gentle, far too gentle, and if he lets it happen he’ll end up falling even more for Frank than he already has, and that’s why this needs to be about fucking Frank. Not about anything sweet, that just won’t do. 

Frank gets the memo, almost like he’s reading Gerard’s mind, so he takes care of getting Gerard’s boxers off quickly like Gerard had done with him. He feels somewhat embarrassed about all of this because Gerard’s all of a sudden naked in front of Frank. It’s weird. Frank was never someone he thought he’d be naked with. It’s such a foreign idea, and it’s actually happening. And Frank is naked too and it’s strange. 

Frank can’t be this attractive person when he was the same lanky ninth grader that Gerard knew how ever many years ago. It feels like he’s a different person. He can’t be this hot tattooed man with his cock against Gerard’s thigh when he’s known Frank for almost his entire life.

But there he is. Frank’s right there, looking up at him with dark eyes and a hand winding its way down Gerard’s body until it’s wrapped around Gerard’s dick. Then Gerard’s making this noise and he’s turning pink because he’s never made that noise before, and he just made it in front of Frank. 

Frank doesn’t say anything about it though, he just starts to kiss Gerard’s neck, while Gerard has started trying to figure out what to do with himself. He wants to do so many things, and that indecision is making him just stay there like a plank of wood doing nothing. 

Gerard is capable of thinking long enough to figure out that he really needs to just fuck Frank already. That’s what they both want, he just really doesn’t have any other ideas of what he’s supposed to do right now.

Gerard, running on pure adrenaline, finds his voice to ask, “Where’s your stuff?”

Frank makes a face before he’s pointing to the bedside cabinet, and Gerard feels like an idiot. Frank doesn’t even keep it in a drawer anything, he’s just got the bottle sitting right there in front of his eyes like a trophy or something. Gerard reaches his hand over, grabbing the little bottle as well as the string of condoms which are drooping over the side, threatening to fall to the floor. 

Frank takes both of his hands and puts them on either of Gerard’s shoulders. Gerard looks down at him when he repositions himself, placing the supplies on the duvet beside them. He looks down at Frank who’s looking up at him, with eyes that all of a sudden look big, round, and pleading. He looks so hungry for it. Gerard can’t think of any other way to put it. 

And Gerard just sort of has to think for a moment, has to remember to keep his feet underneath him, figuratively, and he bends down to kiss Frank. This time it’s him who’s making it all soft and counterproductive, but he can’t help it. Frank’s got such a soft set of lips and Gerard just wants to savor this for a few seconds. He wants to have a real kiss with Frank, just one more time. 

That is until Frank’s uncapping the bottle and shoving it into Gerard’s hand desperately. He takes it from Frank, pulling his lips away and squeezing out a generous amount of the lube. Gerard, supporting himself on his elbow, feels Frank adjusting underneath him, feels Frank’s thighs doing their best to rap around Gerard’s hips. 

Gerard gets lightheaded for a moment before he’s letting a hand get in between Frank’s legs. He allows his finger to circle slightly around Frank’s hole for a moment before gently allowing a finger to push in. Frank’s throwing his head back the slightest bit, and Gerard’s making sure to keep himself from falling on top of Frank with his one hand against the mattress, while the other hand adds a second finger and makes a scissor-like motion to stretch Frank out. Frank makes an uncomfortable sound at the third, and last, finger which Gerard notes. He tells himself to pay attention to that so that he can make sure Frank is properly prepared before he’ll allow them to go any further. Frank’s pressing back on the fingers though, urging Gerard deeper, and that’s when he decides that Frank’s probably good to go.

Gerard takes his fingers out, wiping them off on the bedspread, and then grabs the string of condoms, tearing one off. Frank doesn’t watch. He keeps his eyes closed, with one hand gripping tightly around Gerard’s shoulder, and the other on his hip, like he’s making sure Gerard stays in place and doesn’t go anywhere. 

Gerard’s uncapping the lube again with a small click and applies a little more to himself before he does anything else. 

“Come on,” Frank whispers quietly, his eyes opening just barely to look at him. 

“Yeah,” Gerard nods, and he can’t manage to find a way that doesn’t feel awkward for him to line himself up with Frank’s entrance. Really, it’s awkward, and there’s no way for it not to be. This is Frank. Of course it’s weird. That doesn’t mean either of them are in the mood to stop it from happening, but it’s still weird. 

But all of a sudden it’s not weird, it’s tense instead. That’s what it is. It’s incredibly tense, because Gerard’s carefully pushing in, and Frank’s grip on Gerard leaves his nails digging into the skin. Frank’s body doesn’t exactly allow Gerard in without some restraint, but he does get the tip of his cock through, and it’s easier at that point. Not necessarily on Frank, but for Gerard he can go without as much protest. 

Frank’s got his eyes closed shut like he’s trying to stop himself from remembering something. Gerard’s biting his bottom lip, trying to stop himself from thrusting, because Frank’s body feels really nice. Like, really, insanely, amazingly, fantastically nice. A way different feeling than any of the other people Gerard’s ever been with, not like that was very many, but it feels entirely different anyway. This is Frank for god’s sake. Of course it feels different, how could it not? It feels better though, and that’s what counts. So much better. Frank’s body around him feels perfect and he can scarcely even bear it. 

Gerard’s hip becomes flush with Frank’s skin after a long drawn out moment, and he starts to make his way pulling out again before repeating the action. Gerard pays attention to be slow for right now, because he may hate Frank but he doesn’t actually want to _hurt_ him. Frank’s trusting him here. He can’t just let him down like that.

Frank’s hand on his shoulder takes a different place, tangling itself in Gerard’s hair, and Gerard honestly prefers it there for some reason. He likes the way it feels. The way that Frank’s absentmindedly playing with the locks at the back of his head. 

Frank’s sort of just lying there making small noises for a few minutes before he comes out with this long moan that pierces Gerard’s core. That response is not too hard for Gerard decipher, and especially not after Frank mutters the word, “there.” 

So Gerard finds a little bit more confidence, because Frank’s making these noises that are fucking insane. It’s like you can here sex dripping from his voice. It’s unbelievable, and hot, but mostly unbelievably hot. 

“Oh,” Frank says when Gerard finds the spot again, and he has an easier time of getting it again the next time, which meets with an assortment of sounds, cuss words, and once a semblance of what might’ve been Gerard’s name.

Frank’s so warm pressed against him. He’s kind of sweaty, and there’s a glisten to his forehead from it, but he’s so perfect. Perfect like some sort of angel. Gerard can’t help but look at him and he just really wants to kiss the fuck out of him. Wants to be with him more than just to get off. Wants to really hold Frank. 

For a moment Gerard feels sad, and he feels like he’s wronged Frank, because he’s literally fucking a guy with the only purpose being to get it out of his system, and that feels wrong. The point is that Frank is making Gerard fall in love with him, and it feels awful to not have him. To not _have_ him.

But that flash of thought is swept away quickly, because Gerard feels really good. He likes the way Frank feels, and he loves the way Frank’s started to mutter the word “faster” over and over again. He likes the way that Frank’s hand is wound into his hair, and the way that he can feel his firm grip all the way into his bones.

“Fuck,” Gerard mewls, because Frank’s started to lift his hips up to meet Gerard and it’s insane how good it feels. So maybe it’s been too long since Gerard last had sex, and maybe that’s why it feels particularly amazing right now, or maybe he’s not delusional and Frank really is that good. Gerard just can’t help but to think that Frank’s probably the best sex he’s ever had, and while that’s not the biggest award anyone could get, the fact that it’s Frank receiving it says a lot. 

The noise their bodies make is pretty self-describing, and it’s a sound that Gerard does his best to block out, because it’s getting in the way of the sound Frank’s making. He’s panting pretty heavily, and Gerard’s head falls against Frank’s forehead to stop himself for having to hold it up any longer. He can tell though, with the sound that Frank’s making that either Gerard is hitting his prostate pretty regularly or Frank doesn’t even fucking care anymore. 

The hand that Frank has had consistently placed on his hip moves all of a sudden, which leaves the skin where it had been feeling cold, and Gerard makes a discontented sound. When he looks down, though, his mouth just about dries up because Frank’s wrapped his hand around his cock, and he’s jerking himself off to the same pace that Gerard fucks into him. 

“Oh god,” Gerard groans, because that shouldn’t be so hot, but it is. Gerard’s tempted to slap Frank’s hand away, but his rhythm is erratic at best right now, and he’s really bad at multitasking. 

“Ger...” Frank starts saying his name before he cuts himself off. “I’m gonna, I’m, oh fuck.”

Frank doesn’t need to finish his sentence. Gerard knows. He understands. He’s so close too, and it’s almost so good it hurts.

Gerard’s pounding into Frank pretty hard, and he would be totally terrified that he was hurting Frank if Frank weren’t demanding that he go faster every few seconds. Frank can’t get enough, and neither can Gerard. He’s never known anything so euphoric as the way that Frank’s unable to keep his eyes open. He’s never seen anything as gorgeous as his whispering of swear words, or that raw moaning coming from the back of his throat. He’s never known any situation to make Gerard feel more alive than this one right here.

He’s so lost with the way that it feels that he completely forgets for the longest moment that Frank isn’t his boyfriend. He forgets that Frank would never admit to liking him the way Gerard likes him. It’s blissful to let that slip out of his head. The most amazing sensation to be with Frank so completely and pretend that it’s not just physical. This could’ve been their life if things had gone the right way. Maybe this would’ve been every night for them. Every night of Gerard getting to really love Frank and show it to him the only way he knew how. This could have been what they’d gotten to have. 

This isn’t their life though, this is just a vacation from the normal routines they usually live through. Gerard’s forgotten that though, and it makes him so happy to get to be with Frank. The kind of happy that no one would ever dream of shattering.

“Fuck,” Frank repeats over and over in Gerard’s ear and he makes an almost growling noise at him. He can’t stop himself.

Ultimately, Gerard caves in first. The sound of Frank’s voice is what pushes him past the point where he can hold on any longer, and he feels his head fall against Frank’s before he’s cumming way harder than he can ever remember.

“Oh,” Frank says quietly and Gerard’s not really aware of anything happening, or what Frank means, because he’s got this buzzing sound in his ears and his face has gone extremely warm. He’s aware of something warm against his stomach and it’s not too hard to figure out what it is. He feels Frank’s grip in his hair loosen, and that’s how Gerard knows with certainty that Frank’s orgasm came not seconds after Gerard’s. His body’s sort of gone all flimsy, and he’s practically fallen off of Frank, to the side of him so that he’s half on the bed and half on Frank.

Gerard’s also aware of his own goose bumps, all over his body, making the skin feel prickly and cold when he blinks his eyes wide enough to remember what’s going on. 

Gerard pulls himself off of Frank carefully, finally becoming aware of the grossness of sweat and cum on him.

He looks over at Frank who’s kind of gasping and blinking a lot like he’s trying to get his breath back, and Gerard loves the way he looks. Loves the way that Frank’s so gorgeous without even having to try. He loves the way he looks completely undone.

Then reality catches up. Gerard looks around and sees Frank’s room. He sees Frank’s bedspread and he sees Frank. He also has the realization that Frank’s not anything to him. They’re not friends. They’re not really enemies at this point either, because what they just did is not something enemies do. They’re not dating either, that’s definitely not it. They’re not really acquaintances because acquaintances don’t know every little thing about each other, but Gerard knows, or at least he feels like he knows everything there is to know about Frank. 

Nothing. That’s basically what Frank and Gerard are to each other. They’re nothing. They don’t have a word. There is no word in the English language for ‘childhood friends who were going to marry each other and then one day one of them played a mean prank making the two of them enemies for about fifteen years until they never thought they’d see each other again, then one day, twelve years later, they meet again and immediately hate each other, but over the course of a week they start to realize that they might’ve been in love or at least in like with each other for twenty five years.’ That’s not a word, unsurprisingly.

Gerard just sort of pulls himself away from Frank a little bit and then grabs the covers of the duvet to cover himself up. He’s once again aware of the fact that he’s naked in Frank’s apartment, with Frank right there, also naked. That’s become painfully blinding now that he’s thought about it.

Gerard looks over at Frank again who’s looking at the ceiling rather sleepily. He’s not making any motions to talk to Gerard or do anything at all, so Gerard doesn’t really know what to do. 

Gerard sits himself up a little bit, still looking at Frank, and he starts to turn around to pull his legs off of the bed when Frank’s hand reaches out and grabs Gerard by the forearm. Gerard turns around, startled by the sudden movement, and he looks at Frank who’s looking back at him. His eyes have gone back to normal. They’re bright and caramel colored the way they had been before.

“Please, just,” Frank starts, but it takes him a long moment to finish, and Gerard doesn’t really need him to. “Stay.”

Gerard doesn’t really want to go, he just doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. There’s no proper thing to do in this situation. No handbook for him to read.

Frank’s eyes are burning scorch marks into Gerard when he settles back under the blankets, deciding not to move. He can just stay, if only for a little while. They can just stay and play pretend. That’s all they’ve got to do. Pretend they don’t have the history that they do, and pretend that maybe they could’ve worked out like this if they hadn’t let things all go to hell.

“I-I, uh, told you we’d be bad together,” Frank says, and Gerard smiles a little bit back at him. He can’t help but to see Frank as an idiot. A real, justifiable idiot.

A loveable idiot though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment after that chapter! It is not easy for the asexual to write the sexy times but I have dedication to my craft, and I just love you guys enough to do it. So yeah, please?


	21. Gerard the Day Tripper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey's on the case.

Gerard wakes up to confusion. He wakes up to warmth, and he wakes up to a feeling of content. He feels really pleasant in a really new way, one that he’s not familiar with. 

He feels like he’s just been sat in a spa for a few years and he feels so unbelievably rejuvenated that his limbs don’t want to move.

Gerard’s mind is pretty blank from having slept, so he’s not exactly sure where he is. The room is too dark for him to be able to tell. He knows that something is different though. The mattress feels different. It’s a lot nicer than the one Gerard’s used to sleeping on. The pillow is a lot nicer too. Gerard’s sure it has to be one of those expensive memory foam pillows, and it’s absolutely fantastic, but he could never afford one of those. Gerard splurges on things like buying potato chips. All he eats is ramen, so, no, Gerard cannot possibly own a hundred dollar pillow.

The biggest thing he notices is the fact that he’s way too warm and comfortable for him to be the only one producing body heat. Something else very warm is really close to him so he’s got to be in bed with someone. It takes him a while to figure that part out, and then he’s got to try to remember how on earth he ended up being in some guy’s bed. Well he’s pretty sure he understands _why_ he’s in someone’s bed, given the fact that he can tell he’s not wearing any clothes, but the question is how. 

Last night he was talking to Frank so how on earth could he have wound up in some guys bed?

Oh.

Gerard’s eyes pop open when he realizes that the reason he can’t remember what he did after leaving Frank’s apartment is because he never left Frank’s apartment. From there it’s pretty easy to figure out where he is.

Gerard mentally slaps himself in the face, but he doesn’t actually because he’s not sure he can do so without accidentally waking up Frank. Gerard’s pretty sure he’s still asleep. Now that he’s realized what’s happening he can make out Frank’s breathing, slow and consistent.

Gerard opens his eyes, lets them adjust to the dark so that he doesn’t trip over something. He’s facing away from Frank, but he’s pretty sure that Frank’s arm is on his waist and that freaks him out more than he’d care to admit. Why on earth is Frank touching him? Was that intentional or did his hand just end up there? Is Frank a sleep cuddler or something? Gerard likes to hope that he hadn’t been a willing participant in fucking spooning with Frank, because that’s messed up. Gerard cannot be in Frank’s bed, that can’t happen, but what would be a million times worse is if he was also willingly pressed up against Frank like this. He’s going to assume it’s an accident. It has to be, Frank doesn’t like him. Well he obviously likes Gerard, but he doesn’t, as a teenager would say ‘ _like_ him like him.’

He makes the decision after way too long to get up and get the fuck out of this apartment. He cannot be here right now. He doesn’t even know why he stayed over. That just doesn’t seem like him. True, this has been one of his best night sleeps in a very long time, but he can’t allow himself to like Frank. That’s out of the question.

Gerard rolls over the slightest bit until Frank’s hand falls to the mattress. Gerard’s heart stops as he waits for Frank to either wake up and have a conniption over the fact that Gerard is still in his bed, or some other unpredictable reaction. Much to Gerard’s relief he doesn’t wake up, he just sort of lies there, and makes a noise. 

Gerard lets himself breathe a little, because his heart rate is too fast from the fear of waking Frank up. He honestly has the same feeling he would associate with being in a horror movie. He’s that terrified.

Gerard rushes to find his clothes, and pulls everything on as quickly as he can. He feels kind of gross, really wishes he could take a shower and wash the smell of Frank off of him, because Frank smells really nice and Gerard just can’t have that. He cannot live with the fact that he likes the way Frank smells. He would buy that as a candle scent, seriously, Frank smells amazing. That fact bothers Gerard. He’s not exactly sure himself what he smells like, because Gerard can’t really sniff himself. His nose doesn’t pick up the way he smells because he’s so accustomed to it. If Gerard has to guess, he’d say that he smells like coffee and mildly dirty laundry. 

Gerard creeps out of Frank’s bedroom and into the living room, closing the door softly behind him. He finally lets himself breathe freely, out of the danger zone of where Frank was. Then he realizes that he’s missing a sock and Gerard has a long moment of debating whether he really cares about his sock that much or he just wants to be the weirdo who leaves a sock in another guy’s apartment. Then again, Gerard has every intention to never in his life ever see Frank again, so he might as well just leave his sock here. He has no reason to go get it if he tells himself that he’s not going to see Frank again.

With that, Gerard’s checking his pocket to see that he has his phone, and then he’s quietly making his way out of Frank’s apartment. He closes the front door behind him, locking it so that he can’t possibly get back in. He checks the door after he’s gone to feel that it’s locked, so he really is out of there, and he can’t get back in. Gerard than makes his walk of shame out of the building. 

Twenty minutes later, as Gerard is walking into his own apartment building he’s still not sure how any of what happened last night happened. He checks his watch before he steps into his own apartment to see that it’s pushing nine in the morning. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have a job to go to. Gerard then groans, because he doesn’t have a job to go to. Which means, no money. 

Gerard steps into his apartment and throws his jacket somewhere in the vicinity of a chair in the living room, and then he walks over to his room, and collapses onto his bed face first. He stays like that for about ten minutes, just trying to organize his thoughts. He cannot believe his life is like this. When did any of this happen? How is any of the crap that’s happened within the realm of possibility? This isn’t possible!

Gerard only moves because his phone starts ringing. He reaches into his pocket and grabs it, then tries to answer it. Gerard soon realizes that he can’t talk with his face pressed into a blanket so he lifts his head to the side and balances the phone on the side of his face. It’s probably not the most visually flattering way to talk to someone on the phone, but he doesn’t really care.

“What?” Gerard asks.

“You never came home last night so I’m assuming you slept with Frank,” Mikey’s voice says.

“That’s a pretty big leap to make.”

“Not really, I stayed at your apartment last night just to be sure, and you never came home, so you totally slept with Frank.”

“You slept in my apartment while I wasn’t here? Dude, that’s kind of extremely creepy,” Gerard says.

“No, because I was just making sure that my big brother got laid.”

“Okay, repeat what you just said to yourself and then cross examine it to realize that that’s basically the definition of creepy. I’m the older one, _I’m_ supposed to be overbearing, not you, it’s just weird when you try to tell me what to do,” Gerard replies.

“Gerard, it would be so weird for both of us if I got married before you did,” Mikey tells him.

“You’re not even dating anyone! What? I don’t understand you, Mikey.”

“You’re not supposed to. I’m the enigmatic Way, you’re the geeky one who dresses like a hobo.”

“I resent that,” Gerard scowls.

“You didn’t deny sleeping with Frank, and that’s what we really need to talk about,” Mikey says.

“Well, I didn’t sleep with him,” Gerard lies.

“Oh my god!” Mikey says, making a horribly loud screaming sound that forces Gerard to pick his phone up and hold it away from his ear. Mikey’s coworkers must think he just got kidnapped by an army of pterodactyls.

“What the fuck Mikes?” Gerard says in response. 

“I didn’t believe it until you just said it! Oh my god, I was just pulling your leg to see if you’d snap, but Gerard, you actually did it! You actually screwed him! I can’t believe this!” Mikey says, shouting into the phone so that Gerard has to hold it an inch away from his face.

“I didn’t! I told you that I didn’t sleep with him!”

“You’re an awful liar, Gee. You fucked Frank, this is great progress!”

“Progress? Mikey, nothing happened,” Gerard repeats.

“In the words of my ancestors, liar liar pants on fire.”

“Mikey! I... what makes you think... okay, seriously, what am I doing wrong? I don’t know how you could possibly have figured that out just by me talking to you.”

“I know you like the back of my hand. Actually, that’s a stupid expression, I don’t know the back of my hand very well at all. I know you like I know random trivia facts about Star Wars, Gerard. You had sex with Frank, and I could hear your lie in your voice. Face it, you can’t lie to me. You never have been able to and you never will be able to. So, how was he then?”

“Okay, you might get me to admit to it actually happening, but if you think I’m going to tell you any details than you are out of your fucking mind,” Gerard says.

“Best sex you ever had, huh?” Mikey says, and Gerard makes an exasperated noise. How does Mikey _do_ that? Is he an actual mind reader?

“That is none of your concern.”

“You totally want to tap him again.”

“I’m never going to even see him again,” Gerard says.

“Oh yes you are,” Mikey states.

“No! I will not. That was it. I just, we just, I just needed to get that longing or, curiosity I guess, out of my system. Now that I know what it’s like, I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t just make your feelings for him go away because it’s convenient. If that were so than people would know how to get away from toxic friendships. People would be able to get out of anything toxic for that matter. You can’t just squash the way you feel for him, and we both know that. Gerard, you like him. You slept with him, and now you like him more. Right now you’re thinking about last night and wishing you could teleport back and relive it.”

“Ew,” Gerard says, “Mikey, your head is stuck in the clouds.”

“You know I’m right,” Mikey says, “And if I wasn’t right before, than you sure as hell are daydreaming about it now. You want him. You want him the way I want cheesecake and six hundred million dollars. Well, with that much money I could probably buy a couple of cheesecakes, but that’s not the point. The point is that you want to go back to Frank and kiss him like nobody’s business.”

“Well, if it’s nobody’s business, then why are you asking me about him?”

“Because I am the only one who deserves to know all the juicy secrets about you and Frank’s love affair.”

“You just need to keep your head out of my life sometimes,” Gerard says.

“Gerard, I have an obligation to stick my head in every facet of your life. Which one of us is trying to find you your soul mate? Answer, not you.”

“You’re such a dick sometimes.”

“Gerard, if I’m not a dick _all_ the time than I am doing something very wrong,” Mikey says.

“Fine. You’re an asshole 24/7.”

“Thank you,” Mikey says. “Now, when are you next going to see Frank?”

“Never.”

“So, tonight then?” Mikey asks.

“Never means not ever, Mikey.”

“No it doesn’t, because I will not let you. I will not let you go more than a couple days without Frank. I will tie you to a chair and ship that chair to Frank. I will cut off your feet and then drag you to Frank. I will do anything to make sure you have no way of avoiding him.”

“You can’t make me see him. Mikey, I don’t want to see him, I will never want to see him, and if you force me to see him I will cut off your balls while you’re sleeping.”

“Well then I guess I won’t have kids, because, Gerard, I will do whatever it takes to make you realize what a dunderhead you are. No movie company will ever pick up this story unless you wind up together in the end. I mean, who wants to go to a movie theater and see you and Frank end up with different people? No one wants Frank to win some big jock and you a Luke Skywalker lookalike, they want you together. You, my dearest brother, have got to end up with Frank or else the world will fall into disorder and chaos.”

“I didn’t know my dick was in charge of anarchy,” Gerard says.

“Well it is if you’re not with Frank!” Mikey says, “If you don’t fuck Frank than the natural order of things will get all messed up. If that’s not reason enough for you to go back to that motherfucker and bang him like it’s the end of the world, than I don’t think I can call you my brother. I mean, you’d let the world fall into pandemonium just because you haven’t had the realization that you’re Frank’s soulmate? Just because you’re pride is keeping the two of you apart, you’d let the whole world go down with you? You’re such a disgrace.”

“Mikey, we’ve established that I like Frank, but the thing is that we don’t like each other in the way that you want us to. He’s cute, and he’s nice, and I like him and all, but I can never stop seeing him as that bitch who ruined my life when I was little. I mean, the cow shit in my locker I can live with. The time he egged my window, the name calling, and all the other crap, that’s not really ideal, but I can live with it, because we were teenagers and we were stupid. It’s just that we were friends, and he ruined that with a prank! He blamed me for this shit that I didn’t do, and then he gets the nerve to just stop talking to me, while also trying to deny that he ever did anything to me. All for his dumb pride. I’ll never get over the fact that he ruined our friendship over something as little as a prank that I didn’t even pull.”

Mikey makes a sound on the other end of the phone, “I’ll see what I can do about patching that up.”

“What?” Gerard asks.

“Gotta go,” Mikey says, “I’ll talk to you later.”

“What? Mikey-” Gerard hears the line go dead and he’s seriously confused as to how abruptly that conversation was stopped. What the hell did Mikey mean about ‘patching that up’? Mikey’s not magical, even if he likes to think so. Gerard cannot and never will forgive Frank for his cruelty. Putting paint in a hat? There’s taking things too far and then there was what Frank did. Pranks do not leave you permanently scarred, and tear your friendships apart. That’s called being a gigantic piece of shit. Frank can’t take that back, and Gerard can’t forgive him for it. Even if Frank apologized, he can’t take it back. If Mikey thinks that it can all just be patched up then he is a massive idiot.

“Whatever,” Gerard says, knowing that he’ll never understand Mikey nearly as well as he seems to understand Gerard. If it means getting Mikey off his back for a little while, then Gerard will just let it happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t know my dick was in charge of anarchy,” is probably the best line I've ever written.


	22. Fuck It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikeyway looks through a yearbook.

“How was that blind date thing going for you then?” Mikey asks.

“We’ve been through this, I haven’t talked to Frank in almost a week,” Gerard says.

“Right. How’s that avoiding the problem thing going? Have you sat in the corner every day for the last week rocking back and forth crying?”

“It’s been fine. I don’t miss him or anything,” Gerard replies.

“Yeah, so you say, but we both know that ain’t the truth. You love him.”

“I don’t!”

“Yes you do,” Mikey responds, “You love Frank, and you’re too chicken to admit it. You’ll admit to having a crush on him, but you won’t even get to the whole truth which is that you want to have his babies, and you want to wear those god-awful matching T-shirts that couples have, and you want to kiss him at New Year’s Eve, and you want to watch bad horror movies with him. You want to do dirty dirty things to that guy, I mean to say, things you haven’t already done-”

“Shut up!” Gerard says, considering the option of just hanging his phone up altogether, because he cannot deal with Mikey right now. Or at all. Or ever. Mikey’s just too much to ever have to deal with, and if Gerard didn’t care about him so much, he’d have pushed Mikey down an elevator shaft many years ago. 

“So we’ve established that you love him, then,” Mikey says, “and you know what today is? Saturday. You know what Saturday is? It’s a weekend. You know what weekends are ideal for? Fuc-”

“Stop right there or so help me god I will stable your fingers to a railroad track,” Gerard says.

“Well, that’s colorful,” Mikey says, “Being around Frank has really buffed up your insults. It’s fine with me. You know what might help you though is if you go hang out with him again, because then you’ll be forced to come up with ever more creative disses.”

“You can try all you want, but I’m not going to go see Frank.”

“Ugh, but Gerard!” Mikey groans, “You’ve got what, like twenty days left ‘til Halloween?”

“Eighteen,” Gerard corrects.

“Oh, so you know the exact number. That’ll make me believe you don’t love him, really, good job, absolutely fantastic. You’ve convinced me. What, did you, like, download a countdown app for your phone or something? Can you tell me how many minutes and seconds there are to Frank’s birthday too?”

“No! I just know how to read a fucking calendar.”

“You knew the answer from the top of your head though. Gerard, I usually don’t even remember my own birthday more than a week in advance, but here you are remembering something over two weeks away.”

“Okay, fine, maybe it’s important, alright? Maybe I do know when his birthday is, but that’s only because it’s an important date for me too. As soon as that holiday passes, mom’s going to give me shit about it until the day I die. So yeah, I know when it is, and yeah, I hate that it’s so near to now, but what can I do?”

“Right, whatever you say, Gerard,” Mikey says skeptically.

“Ugh, okay, so what do you want to tell me then?”

“What?” Mikey asks, “Oh, right, that, yeah. I tracked down all of your classmates from second grade, that’s when you and Frank had your falling out, correct?”

“Uh, yeah, hold on, you did what?”

“You know, everyone’s on Facebook these days. It’s insane. You missed out on some crazies, not going to lie. One of the guys who you went to school with was admitted into a mental hospital. Wild stuff you can find out about people through google.”

“How do you even know the names of my classmates?” 

“Your old yearbook, dumbass,” Mikey replies.

“How on earth did you... what are you... no, here’s a good question, why are you doing any of this?”

“I called Frank,” Mikey says, “He swore to me that the glue incident wasn’t him. You swore to me that you never did anything to Frank. That means the logical assumption is that someone from your class pulled both of the pranks.”

“No, the logical assumption is that Frank was lying to you.”

“Hm, see, Gee, the error in your logic is that, if Frank were lying, that means the odds are great that you were lying too. Now, I don’t think you’re lying, but if you were then you realize someone else would have pulled that stunt of ruining Frank’s shirt. He didn’t do that himself obviously, because, why the hell would he? What’re the odds that someone coincidentally pulled a prank on him in that fashion only a few days after he had supposedly pulled a prank on you? I’m sorry to break it to you Gerard, but look at it like this, someone probably framed you to make you turn against each other. My money is on someone resenting you for something or other, I just haven’t figured it out quite yet what they hated about you.”

“That’s quite the theory Nancy Drew, but you do realize how many holes there are in that.”

“Gerard, I’m not a detective, and you were, like, six. It can’t be all that complicated. I believe both you and Frank when you say that you didn’t do anything to each other, but that means someone did.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Gerard says.

“I’m going to prove you wrong that Frank never actually did what you’ve been blaming him for all these years. I’ll also prove your innocence too. Now, do you remember anyone resenting you in that grade? It would be really ideal if it were someone in your class or else I’ll have to go through the whole school. The only one I wasn’t able to find, aside from our pal in the looney bin, is some chick called Beatrice, so let’s hope she ain’t the culprit.”

“I don’t even remember any of my classmate’s names from back then,” Gerard says.

“Oh come on, you can’t be serious! How can you not remember your classmates? I still remember the name of the kid who bullied me when I was that age. His name was Julian and he had a green Mohawk.” 

“A green Mohawk? Mikes, you do realize he’s probably a figment of your imagination.”

“No, it was green. I remember that very distinctly. Bright green. He was a bit young to have a Mohawk, I guess, but whatever.”

“Yeah, it’s the style of hair that’s weird. Not the fact that it was green.”

“Well _your_ hair is red.”

“Mikey, seven year olds don’t dye their hair.”

Mikey replies, “No. Their mothers do it for them. Or other paternal figure, I’m not one to judge.”

“You’re the one who should be in that looney bin.” 

“Whatever,” Mikey says, “I’m going to contact these people and ask them if they remember sabotaging your relationship.”

“How on earth do you plan to do that? And why do you think they’ll tell you? They could lie, that is they could be lying if your theory were backed up by any fact at all.”

“It is, don’t worry. Someone will spill, I have faith. And if not, I’ll just hypnotize them or something,” Mikey says nonchalantly.

“Yeah, because you know how to do that,” Gerard remarks.

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Mikey says and Gerard can hear the shrug in his voice, “but that’s a last resort.”

“You’re such a weirdo,” Gerard says.

“Yeah whatever. I’ll bet you ten bucks the little demon child ends up being this girl who is right next to Frank in the class photo.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t trust her Jesus fish plastered shirt.”

“Jesus fish... are you trying to say ichthys?”

“That’s precisely what I said. Jesus fish. She’s got the logo on her shirt. What’s her name, let me check... Savannah. I’m putting my money on Jesus fish girl.”

“Preachy Savannah? Oh man, I remember her,” Gerard says, a little surprised at himself.

“Oh, see she has a nickname to that extent even! Yep, my money is on her. Two little gays infiltrated her second grade class, she was a brainwashed little demon child, this makes for a very unpleasant combination of things. I will call you back later with updates.”

“You do that,” Gerard says, shaking his head, and frowning. He’s prepared himself for a long night of eating Wheat Thins and watching the Food Network. Gerard sure does know how to have wild and crazy nights.

“Oh, and by the way, Gerard,” Mikey says in a tone that suggests Gerard is not going to like whatever it is he has to say next.

“What?”

“Forgive me,” Mikey replies, before hanging up. Gerard doesn’t understand him. He’s always doing that. He’s just randomly ending phone conversations all cryptically, and it doesn’t make any sense. Forgive him for what? Gerard groans, knowing that he’ll probably know soon enough.

Then he hears a knock at his door. Gerard groans, stands up, walks over to his door, and then he understands why Mikey asked for forgiveness.

Gerard has made a point, a very valiant effort, into making sure Frank never got ahold of his address. His phone number was one thing but his apartment that was another. Gerard never let Frank near anything that would land him standing in front of Gerard’s door, yet there he is.

When Gerard looks through the peephole on the door, he sees Frank. He’s just standing there looking hot and gorgeous, and Gerard’s looking at him while he’s in the process of being hot and gorgeous looking mediocre and somewhat frumpy. 

“You can open the door, I know you’re there,” Frank says. Gerard’s eyes widen because he doesn’t have a clue as to how Frank could know he’s there. He’s pretty sure he didn’t bump the door or anything. Then he realizes how stupid he is for actually worrying. It’s not like it matters how Frank knows, it’s just the fact that he does know. Then again, Gerard doesn’t have a job, so where else would he be? 

Gerard sighs. He’s ignored Frank for almost a week, to be fair, only five days, for a reason. He doesn’t want to be near the guy. He doesn’t want to get closer to him, and feel more and more attracted to him. He doesn’t want either of those things. He just wants to stop feeling anything for Frank, because it’s weird, and that’s not how you treat your enemy. 

Gerard knows enough about superheroes and secret agents and all that other geeky shit to know how you treat an enemy. The way you treat your enemy is by dangling them over a long series of blades and slowly lowering them. Doesn’t have to be a spikey death trap. Could be alligators or piranhas. The point is that you tie them up and then try to bring upon their ultimate doom, but they end up surviving anyway. Unless they’re a minion in a Bond film or a Red Shirt, then they’re as good as dead already.

“Gerard!” Frank says, tapping his foot, and Gerard pulls his eye away, because it’s kind of creepy how he’s just staring at Frank. Gerard then decides he can’t stay there forever, so he pulls the door open and lets himself stare awkwardly at Frank.

“So...” Gerard says, “Been a while.”

“Yeah, the last time I saw you was when you were naked, and then you left me the next morning and haven’t talked to me since.”

“Well it sounds kind of bad when you put it like that,” Gerard replies.

“So this is where you live,” Frank says, looking around and Gerard just knows he can smell the neighbors dirty socks from in the hallway. They’re really bad. Gerard doesn’t do laundry enough and he knows that, but that sock smell is _insane_. They’re going to grow life with that smell, but that is definitely not a good thing.

“Yep,” Gerard says, waiting for an insult on the building. The building would deserve it, but Gerard doesn’t want to hear it anyway. 

“It’s uh, well,” Frank says.

“Shitty,” Gerard finishes for him.

“Your words, not mine,” Frank sighs. 

“So, what do you want then?” Gerard asks, and that’s all he has time to say before Frank’s pressing him against his door and kissing him. By now you’d think Gerard might find this a regular occurrence or at least be a little less surprised every time that it happens, but there’s really no getting used to it when a guy starts making out with you periodically. Especially when you’re not actually dating him, and you’ve known him for most of your life and he’s kind of your arch nemesis, but you also have a crush on him. It’s just a weird thing to happen in general.

“Oh, okay,” Gerard says.

“Can we just, like, one more time maybe?” Frank asks, and Gerard’s pretty much forgotten what other words there are in the English language other than ‘fuck yeah we can do it again.’

He ends up completely forgetting anything that isn’t those exact words though so when Gerard hears Frank he says, very breathily and without much eloquence, “fuck yeah we can do it again.”

And that’s how Gerard ends up making what some would call a very huge mistake, and others would call a really _massive_ mistake. Gerard’s not good at the whole thinking thing right now though, he’s got a hand down his pants and he’s pretty sure that his neighbor across the hall is peeping out to see what shenanigans he’s up to today, but Gerard doesn’t care. He just doesn’t.

One more time won’t hurt anyone, and Frank came all the way over here. It would be rude not to. Well, Gerard’s whole goal in life is to be rude to Frank, but he’s just not going to be able to pull himself off of Frank when Frank’s doing this thing with his tongue. 

So Gerard’s just thinking ‘fuck it’ and he tells himself that he’s going to go with it. He’ll regret this tomorrow, but it’s not tomorrow. It’s today, and this is what Gerard wants today at this very moment. So yeah, fuck it. Fuck rules, fuck social conventions, fuck their history, fuck Gerard’s strange feelings for Frank, fuck everything, but mostly fuck Frank. Literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update comes to you from a highly sleep deprived and highly fantastic individual who would like to remind you to leave a comment in the officially designated comment area.


	23. Shattering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the walls kept tumbling down.

Gerard doesn’t actually stay true to his word. Technically, neither does Frank. Frank had said _one_ more time. Gerard had _agreed_ with one more time.

Two more times isn’t that many though. That’s only one more time than he’d planned on, and it’s not like he’s made a promise to anyone in particular. He was really only talking to himself so it’s not like he did much of anything wrong.

Well, he fucked Frank, and that’s morally against Gerard’s self-made list of ethics, but that was before he realized how hot Frank was and how he just might really like him.

The first, well technically second time had been last night. Frank came to his door, and there was very little prelude other than that. Frank knocked, there was a small amount of small talk, Frank threw himself at Gerard, and the rest is history.

And then Gerard wakes up the next morning but he can’t exactly leave, because this is his apartment. He can’t just leave quietly so he instead goes to the kitchen, makes himself coffee and tries to clear his head. Gerard never really got to actually drinking his coffee though, because then Frank woke up, shit happened, Gerard found himself horizontal on his bed again, and that’s really all there was to it.

Now he’s just sitting here, looking at Frank awkwardly, vaguely remembering his cup of coffee which has probably gone cold by now. He can’t think of what he should say though. Last time there was no awkward morning chat because Gerard left before there was time for one to take place. This morning didn’t provide much space for chit chat either, because Frank was basically on a mission and Gerard’s too weak under the spell of how much he likes Frank to stop things from happening.

That’s how he ends up here, covered only by his bed sheet, while Frank sits awkwardly next to him. They’ve been holding this awkward sitting arrangement for so long that they probably could’ve had their picture taken by a 150 year old camera. It’s like their posing for a really generic movie poster. This could be the next awkward chick flick movie promo that bored couples are dragged to when they can’t think of any plans for a date night. Gerard’s life is a cheesy romantic comedy, and he doesn’t know how to deal with that information. 

“Uh,” Gerard says, and that’s the most noise either of them has made since about twenty minutes ago when they were making _a lot_ of noise. 

“Yeah,” Frank says in response. 

That’s basically their conversation for another five minutes. Weird glances, a few noises, and a substantial amount of fidgeting. 

“So what does this mean?” is the most amount of words either of them says, and they come from Frank.

“Huh?”

“What does this mean?”

“I don’t know... just a fluke,” Gerard says.

“Three times isn’t a fluke,” Frank replies. Gerard has to admit that he’s got a point.

“Well, it doesn’t have to mean anything. After all, we’re not teenagers. We’re grown up, this doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“But it is a big deal,” Frank says. “Gerard, I’m not a guy who just has sex with people willy nilly. I know I led you on to think that, but what I mean is that I can get any guy I want, that doesn’t mean I make a habit of it. But this... this isn’t a one night stand if we do it three times over the course of a week.”

“You’re putting too much thought into it.”

“No, you’re not putting enough thought into it,” Frank replies.

“Listen, Frank, I don’t want to date you. That’s not what this is about, and I don’t want you to get that idea. This just happened, it just happened, okay?”

“Saying it ‘just happened’ makes it sound like you broke a plate, Gerard. That is not at all what this is. This is a much bigger thing than breaking a fucking plate.”

“Well why?”

“Gerard, are you so stupid that you really need me to answer that question? Why is it a big deal that we’ve had sex three times? Because childhood enemies don’t sleep with each other! That’s why! That just doesn’t happen. This isn’t something that happens ever, least of all three times. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, whatever the relationship between you and I, it’s messed up. It’s just weird, and it’s gone on too long, and I can’t bear it.”

“I don’t know what to tell you then,” Gerard says, “because the fact that this doesn’t make any sense, the fact that we’re auditioning for a really shitty soap opera, that doesn’t change what transpired. We can’t change anything. We can’t take it back! I shouldn’t have let you come in last night. Jeez, I should’ve turned you down. I should’ve, but I just couldn’t.”

“It’s because you like me,” Frank says, and Gerard opens his mouth to contradict him when Frank shuts him up by saying, “Oh save it, Gerard. Just accept it! You and I like each other. The sky is blue, water is wet, and you and I are sexually attracted to each other.”

“I just don’t know how this could have happened. I mean, yeah, sure, you’re hot, but so is Ryan Reynolds and you don’t see me screwing him do you? I mean, you and I we have so much history, all this shit that’s gone on between us and I can’t do anything to take it back, but I still shouldn’t be fucking you.”

“Well, we’re both guilty of letting this happen. But, it’s not like either of us stopped it, and you were into it, so I don’t see why that could be so wrong. We’re both consenting adults,” Frank says.

Gerard wants to be able to say that the reason he didn’t stop it is because he really fucking wanted it, but somehow he doesn’t think that’s going to help his case. Instead, he keeps thinking of the conversation he’d had with Mikey last night.

“Mikey said...” Gerard starts, but he doesn’t finish. He doesn’t really know what he was going to say when it comes down to it. There’s just no good way to finish his sentence.

“Mikey’s said a lot of things Gerard, you’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

“Never mind.”

“No,” Frank says, “tell me what it is you have to say. We’ve got to figure something out, because I’m completely lost. So tell me what he said.”

“It’s just... Mikey said that you told him you never did that thing with the glue. Putting that shit in my hat, and forcing my mother to shave my fucking head. That was the worst thing that I could ever imagine happening to me at that age, and Mikey told me what you said. He said that you were adamant that it wasn’t you.”

“Well that’s because I didn’t. I told Mikey the truth. I never put anything in your hat. Why would I? We were best friends, I wouldn’t have done that. That wouldn’t have made any sense.”

“So you really didn’t?” Gerard asks, looking at Frank intently, hoping that if he looks at Frank directly in his eyes that he’ll be able to weed the truth from the lies. When he looks at Frank though, he doesn’t detect any shadow of deception which bothers him. 

He’s spent almost twenty five years sure of this one thing. More sure than he’s ever been of anything else in his life. Gerard’s pretty much sure of the existence of gravity, but if he believes in gravity, than he’s so far _past_ sure that Frank pulled that prank in second grade. 

Gerard just doesn’t see how Frank could be lying right now though. Maybe he’s repressed the memories, but that doesn’t seem likely, because he knows to what Gerard is referring. The big thing is the fact that, if Gerard’s right, he’s still lying. Still lying twenty five years later. What’s the point in that though? What’s the actual point of keeping up a lie for that long? Eventually he’s bound to have given it up, but he’s still going strong on his side of the story.

That gives Gerard this gaping feeling in his stomach, because he doesn’t want to fathom that his entire life of hating Frank, all of it, is based solely on a lie. What if he’s been hating Frank and resenting the very ground he walks on over something that he didn’t do? That thought is almost too painful to think about, because how on earth could they have been torn apart by something so stupid?

Looking back on it makes Gerard think about how dumb a fight it was that instituted their loathing, but what if that really is all that happened. What if Mikey’s right? What if someone really did frame them both and that’s why they’ve hated each other all these years. All of this hating, all of it, over a simple problem of miscommunication. This was the whole problem with Romeo and Juliet, and now Gerard’s realizing that this dumb exchange might be even worse than that. Now obviously, five people died as a result of Romeo and Juliet’s failure to properly communicate, but Gerard has let twenty five years go by thinking something that might not even be true. 

Gerard knows with a fact that he never tampered with Frank’s shirt which is what Frank blamed him for. He knows that wasn’t him, because it wasn’t. Gerard is absolutely sure of that one thing, so why is it so hard to believe that Frank honestly is telling the truth. If someone definitely ruined Frank’s shirt and Gerard’s sure it wasn’t him, than the idea that the same thing happened on Frank’s end of the story is not only plausible sounding, but actually _more_ likely than what Gerard believes. Frank’s right, why would he have done that to his best friend? Why would he have risked their friendship for that? That doesn’t make sense. Gerard was so young at the time, it’s not hard to believe he made a snap judgment, but they say hindsight is 20/20 and there’s a good reason for that phrase.

“Oh god, I might puke,” Gerard says, making a face.

“What?” Frank asks, looking at him with a wary expression.

“You’re telling the truth aren’t you? You really didn’t do it?” Gerard asks.

“I’ve been trying to tell you that for the last million years. Yes, Gerard, I’m telling the truth. I never put anything in your hat. It would never have occurred to me to even combine glue and paint.”

“Oh my god,” Gerard says, putting his head in his hand, because it’s just way too much to take in. There’s no word in the world in any language that could describe how awful this realization is. Gerard literally has the feeling in the pit of his stomach equivalent to what it would feel like if he’d just accidentally killed someone with a car. 

“What is up with you?” Frank asks.

“Frank,” Gerard says, turning to look at him, “I have hated you for most of my life over something that you did not do. My entire life of animosity towards you is based on false pretenses. I can’t even believe this, I don’t... how is this happening?”

Frank looks at him for a moment before he turns a preposterously pale color like his skin was all of a sudden replaced with milk.

“Gerard, you didn’t do what I’ve been blaming you for either, did you? You never did it at all?” Frank says, and Gerard nods, making Gerard think that he’s looking in a mirror all of a sudden. Frank looks precisely how Gerard feels.

“So we’ve actually been hating each other for this?” Frank asks, “I’ve been hating you for something you didn’t do?”

“I have as well,” Gerard says.

“Oh god,” Frank replies.

“This is so weird and fucked up,” Gerard groans, “I mean I still hate you, but I hate you on grounds that aren’t even backed up by fact. I’ve lived my whole life hating you, finding new ways to detest you, and all of that has been fueled by something that’s not even true. I might as well have devoted my entire life to tracking down the Loch Ness Monster.”

“This just became so much more uncomfortable,” Frank says.

“You could say that again,” Gerard replies.

“Oh god, it’s so petty,” Frank states, “Like, all of this, it’s so immature. Gerard, you and I have been treating each other like we’re eleven. I’ve been completely blinded my entire life and I don’t even know how to process this. How can... god. Who did do those things then?”

“Mikey had a theory. Do you remember that super religious girl in our class? She used to tattle on people if they said things like ‘oh my god’ or stuff like that. Well, Frank, you and I were the gay first graders. You’re bound to remember that. We were infamous for being gay, and we were so small it was a wonder that people could’ve possibly thought that about us. Because, everyone’s always so heteronormative about this shit. People don’t believe first graders are old enough to make that sort of decision, hell, people don’t think sixteen year olds are old enough to make that decision, like it’s even a fucking decision in the first place. But we were gay, everyone just decided we were, and alright, maybe they were right, but they couldn’t really have _known_ that back then!”

“But if she thought we were gay,” Frank says, following Gerard’s train of thought, “what better way to get us to stop desecrating her religion than to make us hate each other. You don’t actually think a second grader could’ve been an evil mastermind to that extent do you? We’re not actually that stupid to have fallen for it?”

“Well it comes down to this,” Gerard says, “I swear I never wrote on your shirt. I absolutely swear it wasn’t me.”

“Well since we’re talking about something that happened twenty four years ago, would you be willing to pinky swear?”

“You serious?” Gerard asks.

“This happened when we were six, Gerard! We never worked it out for ourselves back then so this conversation is about two dozen years too late, so I want you to swear on it in a way that makes sense given the context. Do you swear to me that you never did what I’ve been blaming you for? My shirt? Because I swear that I never would have put paint or glue, or anything at all for that matter into your hat.”

“I absolutely promise you, I did not draw on your shirt,” Gerard says, and he can’t actually believe he’s a thirty year old man, naked in his own bed with a guy who he just fucked, pinky swearing over a sharpie on a twenty five year old shirt.

“Dude,” Frank says, looking completely bewildered that any of this is happening, which is an emotion Gerard can relate to quite easily.

“I know.”

Frank then says the truest words that have ever been spoken, “This is so fucked up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment for a giant invisible teddy bear (I'm talking, like, refrigerator size teddy bear here).


	24. The Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball drops.

“You’re not just going to sit there, are you?” Gerard asks Frank after what feels like a few hours. In reality, it’s probably been about twenty minutes, but Gerard considers every minute with Frank an arduous lifetime of torture. Well, actually, he kind of likes just having Frank there, sitting in that stool against the counter, because it makes Gerard less lonely. He never really has company, and it helps that the company he now keeps looks like that. Frank’s got a nice face. 

“Why? Is it annoying you?”

“Yes,” Gerard replies.

“Then I sure as hell will stay here,” Frank says. Despite the revelations, the air doesn’t seem to have changed much between them. Gerard still hates Frank. He still likes Frank. He still finds Frank hot, and he’s still falling for him. Not much has changed, he just feels insanely guilty because he’s been blaming Frank for something he didn’t do for almost his entire life.

“This changes nothing, you know,” Gerard says.

“No, it certainly does not,” Frank says, looking sad about something. Gerard looks at him quizzically, but doesn’t know what to say in response so he just scowls.

“I’m going to make some coffee,” Gerard says, as an excuse to stop having to look at Frank. He turns and grabs the mug of untouched coffee he made earlier, pouring it into the sink because it’s ice cold by now.

“Can I have some?”

“Ugh, will you leave after I make it?” Gerard asks, turning to look at him.

Frank shrugs, “I might.”

“I want a yes or no,” Gerard says.

“I’ve got a gig tonight, I’ve got to kill some time until then. You just might have to put up with me for a while,” Frank says.

“Jeez, you never fucking work!” Gerard says emphatically, “I mean, the money must be fucking great if you can afford that place you live in and still buy food. Look at this hellhole, I barely make enough to stay here.”

“And you’re not going to make any more than me if you don’t have a job,” Frank says. “I’m not the one who chose that apartment though, I just didn’t want to move out.”

“Well then who did?” Gerard asks, pouring water into the coffee maker that he really couldn’t afford buying in the first place, but there are some luxuries in this world that Gerard just can’t live without. Coffee is one of those luxuries. Also name brand toilet paper.

“No one,” Frank shrugs, “It’s not important.”

“Way to deflect any curiosity,” Gerard says, shaking his head. Gerard takes the cheap apartment route in most of his endeavors, because than you can always buy more pointless things like DVD’s that will sit on your shelf for years, only being watched when you can’t find something on TV. Mikey’s always really annoying when he comes over and Gerard tries channel surfing, because Gerard will groan about there being nothing on and Mikey will combat that with something like ‘there’s lots of things on Gerard, you just don’t want to watch any of them.’

“You’re apartment is a piece of crap,” Frank says, “I feel like I’m in the home of a heroin addict.”

“No heroin addicts here, just a man mildly dependent on coffee,” Gerard says.

“Same,” Frank nods, and Gerard turns back to him while the coffee maker starts percolating with a purring sound. It’s not a particularly nice model, but it’s cheaper than buying coffee, and it’s less work. It also makes the apartment smell like coffee which is the biggest bonus.

“Ugh, don’t say that. I don’t want to know any of the similarities you and I have. What I like to assume is that we are two different species. We _are_ basically. You’re an idiot who can only spew off boring idiotic shit, while I am the dramatic opposite.”

“You’re dramatic alright. Dramatically foolish.”

“You’re so aggravating,” Frank says.

“Then why don’t you leave?”

“Because,” Frank says, looking around like he’s trying to figure out how he wants to end his sentence, “Just because okay?”

“Oh so you’re using that excuse again? Because is not an answer!”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying. _Because_ ,” Frank says.

“You can’t just say something like that without expanding upon it. Frank, we’ve got a lot of history. Way too much history. Like, no one else has ever had nearly as much of a fallout after such a tiny misunderstanding, possibly ever. I mean, literally, this is some seriously messed up crap that you and I have been through and there’s no way to get past that.”

“You’re so negative.”

“Or maybe you’re just too positive.”

“You’ve literally ruined my entire life, and you’re telling me that I’m being positive?” 

“Your entire life? Seriously? Entire? I’ve been much more productive than I thought,” Gerard says, “may not have a job, never done anything of any worth, but at least I managed to ruin your entire life.”

“Why are you so proud of that? Why on earth is that a good thing? You must realize that an entire life is a hell of a thing to ruin,” Frank says.

“Shut up,” Gerard groans, rolling his eyes. “Okay, so I ruined your entire life. Don’t know how I did that but congratulations to me. Why are you still here?”

“I just like to annoy you,” Frank says.

“Save it, that’s not why. We both know you’re completely overreaching on this whole irritating me thing. If all you really wanted was to annoy me, you wouldn’t need to be here, you’d just call me and hang up repeatedly, and as it is, you’re not even trying. You’re just sitting there staring at me. So what’s up? What’s actually up, why are you actually here?”

“I just am.”

“That’s not a fucking answer, Frank. We both know that I hate you, okay, and I don’t give a shit about you. Sure, maybe you look nice, okay, but your face is the only thing you’ve got going for you, you’re still an asshole, and we both know that I don’t actually like you, but then here you are clinging to me, every time I try to get away from you it seems you’re right there. Now, I can chalk some of it up to Mikey, but not this. Right now, last night, you’re here because you want to be. You came to my apartment when I think I’d made it pretty clear I wasn’t going to come back to yours, because you wanted to. It wasn’t Mikey, and you can’t blame it on him, because we both know that you didn’t have to come here. Maybe you asked for my address off Mikey, or maybe he just gave it to you, but that’s not the point, you didn’t have to actually come here, and yet you did.”

“So what’s that then? Is that your proof that I’m secretly in love with you or something?”

“Possibly,” Gerard shouts, confused as to how this direction came from that conversation. He was mostly just bullshitting his way to get on Frank’s nerves.

“Why do you insist on being so arrogant?”

“It comes naturally when I’m talking to you. Besides, you didn’t deny that you’re in love with me,” Gerard shrugs.

Frank just rolls his eyes, and puts his elbows against the counter, resting his head in his hands. Gerard looks over at him, and wishes he could busy himself with something else, but even wanting to ignore Frank isn’t a good enough reason for him to actually clean up the kitchen a little bit. The only good reason to clean up the kitchen is if someone holds a gun to Gerard’s head and tells him to clean. Even then it’s still something he’d have to think about.

“So is that a yes?”

“Is what a yes?”

“You didn’t deny that you were in love with me,” Gerard says.

“I hate you.”

“You’re supposed to.”

“How about that leaving? Why aren’t you leaving?” Gerard asks.

“Coffee,” Frank murmurs, pointing to the machine behind him. Gerard checks it to see that it’s not done yet, but that Frank was merely referring to it as an answer.

“You could make your own,” Gerard points out.

“But this way it’s free and it comes with that bonus of annoying you, and I’m not going to turn up my nose at something that generates a lot of anger in you.”

“Fuckhead,” Gerard mutters. “I have, supposedly, ruined your life. I don’t want to let you ruin mine, so I’m asking you to please, get the fuck out of my house.”

“You can’t seriously call this pigsty a house can you?”

“I will put a giant foot sized hole in your skull if you don’t get out,” Gerard says.

“Don’t flatter yourself, your feet aren’t above average in size in anyway. I would know,” Frank replies.

“Stop avoiding what I’m trying to say, Frank! Get out if all you’re going to do is sit there and insult me in my own... apartment place thing.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Well why now?”

“Because,” Frank starts, “never mind.”

“Do I really need to repeat this? Because is not a fucking answer!”

“Because! Just because, Gerard. Because I’m afraid that if I leave right now, you’re never going to talk to me again!”

“Oh and why on earth do you want to talk to me? You went ten years perfectly fine without talking to me, what makes now so different.”

“Because ten years made it easy to forget how much you infuriate me.”

“Why the fuck are you saying that as a defense? Like, if I infuriate you, wouldn’t that mean that you’d want to leave?” Gerard asks.

“You don’t get it, Gerard,” Frank says, shaking his head.

“I don’t? Then tell me! Explain it to me! If I don’t get it than just tell me what it is I’m missing.”

“You’re probably not smart enough to understand what it is I’m trying to say.”

“There you go again with the idiot insults,” Gerard says, shaking his head, “Maybe in your apartment I’ll let that fly, but this is my place. This is where I live, and if I say that I want you out, then you really can’t argue with me. So, either stop telling me I’m dumb, or get the fuck out and don’t come back!”

“I’m not calling you stupid because I want to insult you, I’m calling you stupid because you just _are_ pretty damn stupid.”

“Seriously? I will kick you out,” Gerard says.

“Gerard, you are probably my least favorite person I’ve ever had the displeasure of being forced to interact with. Like, if I could, I would go back in time to when we used to be lab partners, and I’d punch you in the fucking face.”

“And you’re afraid of never talking to me again? You’ve totally lost me.”

“I don’t know, Gerard, okay? I just know that it scares me to think that you’re the only person besides my own mother that I’ve known for my entire life, and it kind of terrifies me to think that we lost that, and now I realize that if all of that shit hadn’t happened in second grade, you and I might’ve been best friends to this day.”

Gerard decides not to add the part where he and Frank might be married, because, that would probably be really weird to point out. Except, in all likelihood, they really would be together. There’s no one else who it would have made more sense for Gerard to have ended up with. And everything he’s learned about Frank in the last few weeks leads him to believe that he not only would’ve married Frank, he’d have been absolutely, completely, totally, crazy for him. As it is, Gerard’s pretty crazy for him. He’d give anything to switch bodies with someone so he could just fucking _date_ Frank.

“Well we’ve lost a lot of that,” Gerard says, “and there’s no way we can ever take it back. Besides, I’ve ruined your life, so you say.”

“You have,” Frank says.

“How though?”

“A lot of different things,” Frank says, “Small things, but they culminated into my life being hell, my mother being so disappointed in me she won’t even look me in the eye anymore, lost so many of my friends, and it’s all your fault.”

“And I did all that to you without having been in contact with you since we graduated high school?”

“Yes,” Frank says.

“Explain to me how.”

“No.”

Gerard huffs, “if you explain how than I won’t kick you out of my apartment like I direly want to.”

“I... it’s not really easy to explain,” Frank says, “and it’s not something I’d ever tell you.”

“Fine. Then leave,” Gerard says, pointing to the door.

“I don’t want to.”

“This is my home, I decide who is allowed to be here and who isn’t. Get out!”

“No!” Frank says.

“Well then explain to me how I’ve ruined your life,” Gerard says, and he tries to make his voice sound like he’s putting his foot down, but Gerard has trouble being stern. His voice is not well equipped to handle anything that’s meant to be taken seriously. Mostly he just sounds like a little kid pretending to be a grown up. He may actually just be a trench coat filled with two extremely well-balanced toddlers.

“It’s complicated,” Frank says.

Gerard tries to look as irritated as he possibly can, walks over to the door and holds it open for Frank. “Then leave.”

“No,” Frank says.

“You leave my apartment or you tell me how I ruined your life. I think I deserve to know. I haven’t even talked to you in ten years before last week and you’re blaming me for your whole life being ruined! This is not something I can just shove under the carpet and ignore.”

“Like I said, it’s complicated,” Frank says.

“Yeah well, I don’t have a job. I’ve got time. You said you’ve got time to kill, explain it to me.”

“I think the coffee is done,” Frank says, to avoid saying anything.

“Not that easy,” Gerard says, shaking his head.

“Alright fine!” Frank shouts, walking over to Gerard and slamming the door shut in front of the both of them. Gerard had expected him to leave, honestly.

“What?”

“I’ll tell you then,” Frank says, angrily.

“Oh. Right. Go ahead,” Gerard says, walking back to his spot in the kitchen.

“I don’t, ugh, it’s hard to explain.”

“We’ve gone over that. It doesn’t have to be though, out with it.”

“Fine!” Frank yells furiously, “I’m in love with you.”

“You’re what?” Gerard asks as a feeling settles in his stomach like the titanic literally crashing into him. It’s actually worse than that. It’s a feeling comparable to being hit in the head with a meteorite. 

Then it occurs to him that he might have just entered a reality prank show. That’s got to be it. No other explanation for it. He’s being punk’d. Except the look on Frank’s face is really convincing. Someone needs to give him an Oscar, because Gerard believes, just for a second, that he might be telling the truth.

“I’m not going to repeat it.”

“You’re... you’re kidding, right?”

“No,” Frank says.

“But we hate each other. You hate me. You’ve admitted to that already,” Gerard says.

“I do hate you.”

“But how can you... how does one, uh,” Gerard mumbles before drifting off into some dimension that doesn’t have him as confused as this one. He really wishes he could just walk out of his apartment and step into someone else’s life. Full on Dollhouse or something. 

“I don’t know!” Frank says.

“You can’t have both of those emotions at the same time! It’s redundant! You can’t love someone and also hate their guts! That makes no sense. That’s like saying blatantly subliminal or Republican feminist, it’s just not possible under the guidelines of their fucking _definitions_!”

“You don’t think I know that?” Frank says.

“How has that ruined your whole life then?” Gerard asks.

“Well it’s mainly the fact that I don’t want to be in love with you and the fact that I know it’s true makes my skin crawl just thinking about it, but it makes it hard to do shit. Like date people for one, that’s hard. Anything past dating has proven to be impossible.”

“Proven? Proven how?” Gerard asks.

“It’s not important.”

“You said you’d tell me how I ruined your life! How did I ruin your life? Make me understand!”

“You just did, I mean, you have. You’ve ruined my life quite well. It’s because of this that my life has been ruined. I can’t seem to get past it. I hate it, and I hate you, but I think I’ve liked you for a really long time too, like, not in the ‘hey let’s promote the idea that boys who are mean to you actually secretly like you’ sort of way, because, can you talk about normalizing abusive behavior. I mean, I like you completely differently, and I don’t know how to put it, not really, because it’s really pretty messed up and I hate it, but that’s just the way it is. Like, I mean, I can’t help it, okay! I can’t help but picture you and I, and it’s disgusting, but really really nice, and I wish you weren’t so fucking hot because it would make this easier to get over, but even if you were ugly, you’re still Gerard, and you’re still the little kid I played with every day, and you’re still the guy that I’m madly in love with and I don’t know how else to put it.”

“Why would you _tell_ me all of this, though? I mean, seriously? Frank, why on earth would you actually admit to loving me? That’s not something you just tell someone who you also just told that you hate.”

“Because I’m afraid of the fact that you’re going to push me out of your life and not let me back in. Gerard, if I could help the way I feel, you’d better know that I would. And I could kid myself, I tried really hard, but being around you is making it impossible. I love you, and you know what, I have for about twenty years.”

“Oh god, this is a lot to take in,” Gerard says, putting his hands on the sides of his forehead like maybe if he holds his head together it’ll stop the pounding headache trying to make its way through.

“But we hate each other,” Gerard whispers to himself.

“I know!” Frank says.

“Is this why you’re mom is disappointed in you then?” Gerard asks, “because you l-love me?”

Gerard has trouble even getting the word ‘love’ out of his mouth. It doesn’t sound right. The only time when it’s appropriate to use that word, in Gerard’s opinion, is when you’re talking about pizza or Star Wars. Or maybe you’re saying love in reference to Éowyn or massive amounts of pasta. ‘Love’ cannot ever be said by anyone ever about another person, or at least that’s how Gerard feels right now. He all of a sudden can’t picture a good time for you to ever say that about another living thing. Maybe a cat, sure, you can love a cat, or a dog if you’re a dog person, but a _person_? People are not made to be loved. They’re made to be insulted and called fuckheads. Or maybe that’s just Frank. Gerard’s brain really is working in overdrive right now, he can’t even begin to form the right words to get across what he’s thinking.

“Not exactly,” Frank says in response to a question that Gerard doesn’t remember asking.

“What now?”

“There’s more reasons than that. Mostly by extension of this whole dilemma with me loving you even though I hadn’t talked to you for over ten years. I don’t even know how it’s feasible that it stayed true after that long, and I honestly thought I’d gotten you out of my head enough to just fucking move on, but apparently not.”

“So you’re the bitch!” Gerard says.

“I’m the what?”

“That guy you have a picture of in your wallet! You’re the bitch who broke the two of you up. There’s always a bitch, even if it’s mutual. Someone’s got to be the bitch,” Gerard says.

“I think calling me the bitch would be the understatement of the century,” Frank says.

“What did you do?” 

“I made a very very huge mistake that cost a lot of people a lot of money,” Frank replies.

“Seriously, what did you _do_?”

“Gerard,” Frank says in a tone that suggests that he does not want to do anymore explaining. 

“What did you fucking do?” Gerard asks, “You’ve already shown me your hand, Frank, you might as well give me the rest of the cards.”

“It’s not... I, it’s not really any of your business.”

“Tell me if I’m hot or cold then,” Gerard says, “Does it involve this guy you have a picture of in your wallet?”

“I’m not going to play this game with you, Gerard.”

“Just say hot or cold, than you won’t have to explain it to me!”

“You’re so fucking maddening.”

“Ah yes, but you are in love with me. Literally,” Gerard says, “So, hot or cold, is it Mr. Wallet guy related?”

“Ugh, yes, alright?”

“Okay, does this involve how you broke up?”

“How old are you actually? Six?”

“Close enough,” Gerard shrugs, “Break up?”

“Yes,” Frank rolls his eyes.

“It was your fault,” Gerard says, more of a statement than a guess.

“Yep.”

“Messy I’m assuming. Was it public? Did you break up with him on his birthday?”

“No, I wouldn’t break up with someone on their birthday!”

“Valentine’s Day? Oh, Christmas!” Gerard asks.

“No and no!”

Gerard thinks for a moment before he has a very dreadful idea that he really hopes Frank turns down, “hold on, this guy, he was your boyfriend at the time that you broke up, right?”

“Oh god,” Frank says, cringing, and putting his face in his hands.

“Oh my god, you did not,” Gerard says, “you said no when he proposed?” 

Frank makes a really awful sound and shakes his head.

“You didn’t? So he didn’t propose?” Gerard asks.

“No, he did,” Frank says, voice muffled by his hands covering it up, and he’s probably beet red which is a good reason for why he’s covering up his face.

“Oh my fucking god. Oh my god. Frank! You’re... I can’t... please tell me you didn’t,” Gerard says, reaching what he feels is the only other conclusion to be drawn.

“I did,” Frank says.

“You _bitch_ ,” Gerard says, “Oh my god, I can’t even believe this. Like, there’s bitch, and then there’s fifty million miles of crap, and then there’s another couple of layers of being a bitch, and then there’s you.”

“I know,” Frank groans.

“You absolute bitch,” Gerard shakes his head, crossing his arms, “you left a guy at the altar?” 

“I did,” Frank says.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Frank,” Gerard shouts, “you did that? You’re that awful a person?”

“I thought I could go through with it!” Frank says, finally lifting his head out of his hands, and looking at Gerard, though refusing to meet his eye. “I honestly thought I could. I thought that that’s how I would be able to get you out of my head. It had been, like, eleven years since I last laid eyes on you, so obviously I thought I didn’t love you, but then I just, I felt like I was going to puke every hour of the day. I felt so guilty and I felt so wrong, like I was lying or cheating, and I just couldn’t go through with it. But he was, like, perfect, you’ve got to understand that, and I wanted to love him, and to an extent, I did, but he’s just, he wasn’t, or, I mean, he isn’t, well, you. He isn’t you.”

“This is so many different shades of not fucking okay. Frank, you’ve transcended bad soap opera, you’ve now reached bad _foreign language_ soap opera! You’re not making any sense in a horribly put together melodrama with shitty lighting in a completely different language. That’s how bad this is.”

“I know!” Frank says. “And what’s worse is that it’s for you! All for you, and you’re such a horrendous person, and you think I’m dumb and stupid for what I did, but I still love you, and I can’t do anything about it, and everything in my life is just so fucked up!”

“You’re just, I can’t get past how much of a bitch you are,” Gerard says, shaking his head and all of a sudden feeling bad for this ex. There’s just some things in the world that are so awful that saying they’re awful doesn’t do them any justice. Murder is one of those things. Taking the last slice of pizza after you promised someone else could have it. Not flushing the toilet in a public bathroom. And of course leaving someone at the altar.

Gerard also feels kind of proud of himself though. He knows he’s a bad person for that feeling, but he can’t help it. He ruined Frank’s relationship even though they hadn’t spoken in a dozen years. That’s pretty strong. It says a lot about how much Gerard must mean to Frank, and now Gerard just wants to scream at the top of his lungs that it’s mutual, but he can’t bring himself to that.

He doesn’t know what’s stopping him, because, really, he could just own up to it and he could go over there and make out with Frank and they could have a life together, but then again, he can’t just do that. Gerard doesn’t, for the life of him, know _why_ he can’t do it, but he knows that he can’t. It’s something ingrained in him that he can’t give up so many years of thinking and feeling one thing to just let it go and feel the exact opposite right now.

But Frank literally ruined his own fucking wedding for Gerard, and Gerard wasn’t any the wiser. When it happened, he was probably playing Tetris, or head banging to the radio. He might’ve been getting turned down for a job or watch fucking House Hunters. The one place that he definitely wasn’t was in Frank’s life.

“This is too much to take in,” Gerard says.

“I should go,” Frank says, shaking his head, and Gerard can tell he’s already regretting ever having said anything.

“What?” Gerard asks.

“I should go,” Frank repeats, making his way to the door.

Despite the voice in his head, one that’s all too familiar to him by now, Gerard doesn’t stop him. He knows he’s supposed to. He knows that he’s supposed to run after Frank and make sure that he doesn’t leave. He’s supposed to go grab him before he gets too far and tell him that he loves Frank too, and they’re supposed to kiss and it’ll be perfect. He’s supposed to run down the street in his underwear and make sure Frank doesn’t get anywhere. They’re supposed to make out in the rain and fade to black, let the credits roll, and make every woman in the theater feel bad about their own partners compared to the relationship Gerard and Frank have.

That’s what he’s supposed to do, and Gerard knows that.

That’s not what he does though. Gerard instead watches Frank leave the apartment, lets the door shut behind him, and all Gerard does is stand there. He just stands there, not wavering, not even bearing to think right now because it sounds like it’ll cause his brain to implode in on itself.

He knows if he thinks, he’s going to have to think about him and Frank. He’s going to have to picture waking up on a Sunday morning with the guy he’s in love with right next to him, probably either snoring or drooling or doing something else unflattering that Gerard will find adorable. He knows that he’ll have to imagine himself picking between birthday cards at the pharmacy on his way home from work, one with pictures of dogs and the other with a really bad joke that Frank would really like, and he’d probably end up getting both cards. He knows that he’d have to think of marathoning Buffy with Frank and having a heated debate over Angel and Spike which would probably end with the two of them taking all of their clothes off. He knows that he’d have to think about family Christmases where Gerard’s mother would not only love Frank, but she’d probably like him a tad bit better than she likes Gerard, and he would get sick of hearing ‘so when are you going to have kids?’. He knows he’d have to think about buying boring adult things with Frank like salt shakers, or towel racks, but they’d also probably buy light sabers so that they could run around their apartment acting like small children. 

Gerard knows that thinking about any one of those things will force him to chase after Frank.

But Gerard doesn’t move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't follow me on tumblr you may not know that I have had the flu, which is why it took me so long to update, but hopefully I should be getting back to a normal schedule now.


	25. A Dissection of the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I did some venting with this chapter, and that's why it's so long-winded. Sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song choice for this chapter: Room to Breathe by You Me At Six

Gerard’s been in a state of confusion for about an hour and a half now. He hasn’t really done anything. Mostly he’s just stood here staring at the wall and trying to come up with a formation of words to describe how he feels right now.

He feels like an idiot. He’s pretty sure he _is_ an idiot as well. He can’t even wrap his brain around the sheer number of things that encompass the immensity of how much of an idiot he is. He’s literally standing here, barely even moving since Frank left and he’s trying to stop himself from thinking about Frank. In doing so however, he’s forced to try not to think about Frank which just means that the only thing he can possibly think about right now is Frank.

He’s thinking about Frank’s hair which is always messy no matter when Gerard sees him, but it’s really cute too with the way that it frames his face. He’s thinking about Frank’s eyes which are a really pretty shade of dark brown like chocolate and they make Gerard melt a little just thinking about them. He’s thinking about Frank’s fingers which are literally one of the hottest things he’s ever seen, because they’re tattooed and strong, but also really gentle, and Gerard really wants those hands tugging on his hair or holding his own hands. He’s thinking about Frank’s smile and the way it seems to light up every room he’s in, but he always tries to stop himself from smiling whenever he’s around Gerard which means that it ends up being even more adorable and sweet. He’s thinking about Frank’s voice and the way he’s so articulate, even though half of the time Gerard’s heard him talking it was to call him something unflattering, but sometimes it’s hard to feel offended when it’s Frank on the offense.

He’s thinking about Frank’s laugh and the way that it seems to come from a deep part of him rather than just on the surface, and it’s a little feminine, also somewhat of a pot laugh, but it’s cute and it probably gives a fairy its wings. He’s thinking about the way that Frank’s eyebrows seem to loosen up when he’s concentrating on something, or when he’s trying to look serious about whatever subject he’s talking about. He’s thinking about the way Frank doesn’t like it when people make fun of his height, but he’s all for making fun of his own height so long as he’s the one who says it first. 

He’s thinking about the way Frank had kissed him, like it was some secret the two of them were sharing that couldn’t be told to anyone else. He’s thinking about the way Frank remembers all the little things, knowing smaller little things about Gerard that even he wasn’t completely aware of about himself.

Gerard’s thinking about everything and only anything to do with Frank when someone starts hammering on his door. Gerard almost forgot where he was, or more, accurately what he was. He was just so lost in thought that he forgot about his own existence.

Gerard walks over to the door, hoping it’s Frank and also hoping it’s not. He also kind of wants it to just be death so that he doesn’t have to think about the royal mistakes he’s made over the past few weeks, but he doubts death would knock on the door.

When Gerard opens it, forgetting to look through the peephole in his state, he’s almost run over by Mikey pushing past him.

“Do you think they have AA meetings for people who have the dumbest brother in all of existence?” Mikey says.

Gerard turns around, looking out the doorway for a moment longer to check the halls for he’s not sure who. Maybe Frank, or maybe Satan coming to laugh at him. He turns, closing the door behind him, and feeling like his brain was just assaulted by too many words all at once.

“What?”

“Like, can I find an anonymous group where you go and you tell everyone about how dumb your brother is because he’s so unbelievably stupid that it literally hurts the very core of your own existence that someone this wholly stupid could ever possibly be related to you? Not even related, someone that stupid could even possibly exist. Like, he’s so dumb, so idiotic, so fucking daft that it doesn’t seem possible that he hasn’t accidentally choked on air by now.”

“I’m lost,” Gerard says.

“Of course you are, you’re just that dumb!” Mikey exasperates.

“What’d I do?” 

“You forced Frank to call me in hysterics that you turned him down after he laid his soul out for you, and I came here to see if it was true, but you’re just staring off into the distance like someone stole your car but you haven’t been able to accept that reality yet.”

“I don’t have a car,” Gerard says.

“I know that you pissbrain!” Mikey shouts, “I was just trying to measure the look on your face in real words, but I don’t even think that does justice to how dumb you look right now. Gerard, I cannot believe you. I cannot even look at you right now, I’m so angry at you.”

“Why?” Gerard asks, innocently. He walks over and sits down in a slouch on one of the stools at the counter.

“Because you’re such a dunderhead! Frank likes you, fucking loves you, and what do you do about it? Nothing. You’re just sitting there looking like a pathetic walnut. I know you’re in love with Frank, that is not something that you can just pretend isn’t true, because I know it, but when you finally have your chance to just accept that and jump into Frank’s arms and be happy, what do you do instead? Nothing! I don’t know how you could possibly have decided that was the best thing for you to do, but here you are now, and you’re such a fucking disgrace.”

“You think I’m a disgrace too, great, can I do nothing right?”

“Evidently not,” Mikey says, and Gerard looks at him to see that he looks like he’s being absolutely serious. That only makes Gerard feel infinitely worse about himself because literally no one believes in him. It’s impossible to voice what that means, and how it feels. It feels so unbelievably awful that he’s not sure that there’s even a word in any language, dead or not that could ever describe just how utterly sickened he feels with himself. He literally feels like the hair clogging a drain or the gum at the bottom of a shoe. He doesn’t even think that’s disgusting enough to describe how he feels. 

“Would you just save it,” Gerard asks, “Please? I’m not in the mood.”

“In the mood? Gerard, you just essentially ruined any chance you had with Frank, because now he’s just fucking pissed at you. He went through the progression of being so head over heels in love with you that I thought I was watching a teen movie about first love, to so uncharacteristically negative about everything in the world, to hating every single fiber of your existence, all while I was on the phone with him. Like, the dude hates your face, and your hands, and your arms... he even hates your left pinky toe.”

“I know,” Gerard says, “and I probably deserve that.”

“You think?” Mikey asks, “Like dude, I can’t even believe you. You just let him walk away. Now, don’t judge me for knowing this, but aren’t you supposed to run after the guy when he leaves? Isn’t that what all the songs on this planet are about? And all the movies? And every book ever? And you just _didn’t_? Because why? Because you’re so full of pride that you can’t even admit to yourself that you’re in love with that son of a bitch?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it, Gerard?” Mikey asks, “What could possibly have come over you which made you decide you’d just let the love of your life walk out of that door?”

“How do you know he’s the love of my life, Mikey? What if we’re just behaving like teenagers and it’s our hormones convincing us we like each other.”

“Because you and I both know that’s not the case between you two,” Mikey replies.

“I’m just, sorry. I don’t know?” 

“Well why the hell are you apologizing to me? I’m not the one whose heart you just shattered into a million pieces.”

“I know, but Frank’s not the one who’s yelling at me about it!” Gerard says, feeling hurt by Mikey’s words even though he knows they’re true. Really, what does he expect? What did he think would happen? He just completely ignored Frank and called him a bitch when he cut himself open for Gerard, and _Gerard’s_ the one behaving like a kid. Gerard’s acting like a baby, and he knows that. He should just suck it up, pick himself up and be able to admit that he did something really wrong. Completely wrong. He should have gone after Frank, but he didn’t and now Frank rightly hates Gerard’s guts.

He did before of course, Frank’s hated Gerard’s guts for a really long time, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t like, or even love Gerard. He’s just having trouble fathoming the concept of Frank being in love with him. He’s having trouble understanding most concepts right now. He can’t believe that Frank is actually in love with him, but he knows that Frank hates him too, and he doesn’t know how those two things can correlate and yet they do. It’s just too much to try to figure out while his brain feels oversensitive. It feels like learning one more new thing, anything at all, will make his brain give in on itself. 

“Gerard, I don’t know how to say this any other way, because you look too winded to even reply, but you may have ruined any chance you had. He’s so angry, you might have completely blown your shot altogether,” Mikey says.

“I know.”

“That’s it?” Mikey asks, “No witty response? No insulting me or denying that you like Frank? Nothing?”

“No. I just don’t have it in me to pretend anymore,” Gerard says, “I mean, I’ve made my whole life about dissing Frank, like every second of high school I spent planning new mean things to say to him, call him new names, or planning new demises, but right now, I just don’t care about any of that.”

“You don’t care? So that’s it, you’re giving up.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Gerard says, shaking his head.

“Then explain it to me.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Gerard sighs.

“You’ve already done a fantastic job at fucking up your life, Gerard, why would I be at all surprised that you’ve ruined something else? That’s all you seem to do these days, is make your life harder than it had to be. All you have to do is get a job, and keep it, but you can’t do that. All you have to do is admit to yourself that you like Frank, and maybe he’d be human enough to tell you that he likes you back, but you can’t do that either. You can’t seem to do anything right, and I don’t think you understand how stupid it is that you’ve completely lost you’re interest in even trying to make your life something livable,” Mikey says.

Gerard takes a deep breath before saying, “I feel like all I am is a waste of space. I feel like I’m incapable of making friends, and the one’s that I keep are only there because I put too much effort into keeping them there. I’m always the one who has to make the first move if I want people to talk to me. No one wants to talk to me, no one wants to hang out with me, and no one cares about me. They don’t. They don’t care about me, and when they do care about me it’s only because I pushed myself into their life. And it feels like someone’s filled my internal organs with boiling water. It feels so hot that it’s cold, and every single one of my nerves is just overreacting to this feeling of worthlessness, and it’s starting to get to be too much. It’s like... you ever get heartburn but it’s, like, throughout your whole body? Like it feels like your bones have been tied with rubber bands and they’re just burning and they’re so tight that you can’t even move your arm anymore and it’s just, like, that’s what it feels like right now. That’s how I feel. I feel like my bones are being burnt and squeezed and broken like twigs.

“I’m so lonely, and no one sees that. I’m so lonely that it physically pains me to have to remember that this is all I am. This is all I have ever been and all I will ever be and no one will ever care as much about me as I care about them, as much as I care about keeping them in my life. No one can or will ever think of me in that way, and knowing that is like being stabbed in the chest a million times over with a blunt object. It’s hard to let me breathe through this agony of hating who I am, and who I’ve become and sometimes I just wish I didn’t feel at all. I just wish that no one was there so that I wouldn’t have that hope. Because hoping is the worst feeling in the world, and it allows me to just pity myself even more than I already do, because when I hope, then I’m letting myself imagine what it would be like if people really did care. If they weren’t disappointed in me, I can picture it, and I can see a world where people actually want to talk to me, where they actually hang out with me because they want to, not because they feel guilty about the fact that I don’t have anyone to talk to which is my fault anyway. It’s because of this seclusion I’ve built around myself, and it’s starting to weigh me down more than usual. But hoping keeps me wishing. It keeps me thinking that maybe people will start to like me. It keeps me at the edge of my seat, but in doing so, it distracts me from my life. It makes me work harder for the things I don’t need and not hard enough for the things that keep me alive. But I keep hoping, still not letting myself convince the rest of me that I’ll always be the guy who has no friends, and it’s been hurting a lot more lately. It’s starting to feel like the whole world is out to get me. It’s starting to feel like I can’t do this anymore.”

“Okay, Gerard, slow down. You need to stop saying that, or you’re going to actually start to believe that the shit you’re saying is true,” Mikey tries to interrupt.

“But all I am is a national screw up. I’m like a zoo exhibit that people go to see when they’re feeling bad about themselves, because I’m a worse version of everyone else. I’m the guy who’s so dumb that he can’t get anything to work, and I’m the guy who everyone pities so much that it’s all I even am anymore. I’m just a giant trash shoot of pity and that’s all I’ve been for so long. And all the things I’m good at, or that I try to be good at, are things that other people are better at than me. Like, I’m not even that talented in those things that I tell myself I’m good at. I’m not as good and I never will be. I’ve never been an artist who turns heads, and I’ve never done anything that shines any more than what other people have done, and on top of that, I’m just a broken shell of a person who’s only capable of fucking up. That’s all I am. That’s all you see me as, and that’s all mom sees me as, and my friends all see me in the same way, and it’s come to a point that I’ve ruined everything so much, to this unimaginable degree, that it’s become okay to say it to my face. To tell me, outright that I’m a screw up and that’s all I’m capable of being. With anyone else, you would never say that to them, not directly. You might make them know it with the over the shoulder glances and the slight digs, but you wouldn’t say it. But with me, I’m so far past hopeless that saying it to me is almost something that you consider to be a compliment. You almost think I need to hear about how much of a failure I am, like I don’t see it at every minute of every day of my life,” Gerard finishes, feeling like he might cry.

“I didn’t know you were feeling like that,” Mikey says.

“And then Frank was probably the only person in my entire life, the only one who wasn’t disappointed in me. Because he wasn’t there to watch my downward spiral so he didn’t know. He couldn’t see all the potential that I threw in the garbage by being myself, but being myself is what’s dug this giant hole around me that I can’t seem to get out of. He was the one person that didn’t look at me like I’m some big sympathy case. The only one person, and he fucking hates me! And I know he hates me, and I know he’s hated me for as long as I can remember because that’s what our relationship is, but that’s all there is to it, really. Frank treated me like a real human being, not as some big failure like everyone else has. He was mean, but he was real. He didn’t talk to me like you have, and like mom has, and like every one of my so called friends who text me back days after I’ve asked them if they want to hang out or whatever. Frank’s been a vacation from that, from my life which is such an utter mistake, and I finally got to look in someone’s eyes knowing that, sure, they hated me, but they hated me for reasons that didn’t extend from the fact that I’ve driven my own life into a lake. And now he hates me even more, and I’m literally living up to what people say about me. That’s probably the worst thing about my life right now, is that everyone keeps telling me how bad I messed up and they’re all saying what a failure I am, and it’s fucking true! It’s true, and I know it is and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I just keep driving my life off the track and I don’t even know how to stop this self-destructive thing I’ve got going on, because it’s all I’m good at. The things that I can’t do that I kid myself I’m good at are nothing compared to how absolutely fantastic I am at ruining my own life.”

“Gerard, I didn’t mean that, and you know I didn’t mean that. I was trying to snap you out of this dent you’ve had in your life for a while now, and in doing so I think I misspoke,” Mikey says.

“You didn’t misspeak, you said precisely what you think of me. You think I’m a big screw up, a gigantic blot on an otherwise spotless life that you’d be leading if it weren’t for how messed up your older brother is. We both know you meant what you said, and brutal honesty aside, you’re right. I’m a failure. I can’t make anything work. I can’t get a job, I can’t even let myself have the one nice thing that tries to enter my life. Because that’s what Frank would be, he’d be the one ray of sunshine in my big fucking mistake of an existence and maybe then I’d be worth at least a fraction of what I pretend to be, but no, no I just had to go and ruin that too. Just like I always do. I had to ruin my chance with Frank just like I’ve ruined everything else. At least you can hand it to me that I am very consistent in how good I am at fucking up.”

“You need to stop that, Gee,” Mikey says, “you need to stop saying that about yourself, and you need to stop being so negative about your life. Gerard, you’ve had a few bumps, we all have enough bumps in our lives to make a really impressive tragedy that each of us could fill a thousand pages describing, and I don’t say that to demean the shit that any of us go through at all. I just mean to say that Gerard, you’re not actually a failure. I said that, because I was pissed at you and you say dumb things you don’t mean when you’re pissed, but I don’t mean it, not really. Gerard, I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks, you’re really talented and you’re a good person, and you’ve screwed up. So what? You screwed up, it happens. Life gets in the way, we make mistakes, we push past them, and we fix holes that we thought we couldn’t. You can’t just tell yourself that you’re done and you’ll never be able to do anything right, because then you’re leaving out the possibility that anything could ever get better.”

Gerard’s eyes feel a little heavier than they had before, like someone’s added a couple weights to his eyelids. He’s afraid that he might cry, but he can’t, not in front of Mikey. If he’s going to do any crying, he wants to be by himself. He wants to be alone in his apartment, hiding under the covers of his bed playing some boring love song with only three chords. He just can’t let his guard down and give in with someone there to watch. So he sniffles, sucks it up, and tries to remember what they were just talking about.

“You just said-”

“I know what I just said, and that’s because I thought you were being pig-headed and rude, but now I realize that you’re not having an easy time right now, which I didn’t know. So I’m sorry. I accept full responsibility that I was harsh on you. What I want you to realize though, is that Frank still likes you. I mean, the dude fucking loves you for god’s sake. That doesn’t just evaporate after a day. It doesn’t just go away with a flash because you called him a bitch and let him walk away. He still loves you. That’s not something you can unlearn in an hour and a half. It can take years to stop loving someone, and sometimes you never can at all. I mean, Gerard, the dudes loved you since you were, what, like ten? If you think he’s just going to stop loving you today because of this, then you actually _are_ stupid.”

“I just don’t know that I can ever be any better than I am now,” Gerard says, “I don’t know that I can ever stop being bad at everything I try to do. I don’t think I’ll ever be any good at making and keeping friends, finding jobs... creating. I don’t know that I’ll ever be any good at any of those things.”

“You already are,” Mikey says, shaking his head, “You’re just having a bad week. We all have bad weeks. Hell, maybe it’s a bad year, but so what? Just because everything’s not the way you want it to be, doesn’t mean you can give up. It doesn’t mean that it’s okay to just stew in how miserable you are. You’re not a screw up, Gerard, or at least you don’t have any real reason to think you are in the grand scheme of things. You’re doing a pretty good job at living, all things considered. You’ve managed to stay alive this long, gotten yourself here, and maybe things are looking bleak, but you haven’t ruined everything. You can still get a job, you can still get Frank and have weird little painfully sarcastic children with him. That’s not off the table. I mean, I know what I said to you, and I know it was pretty negative. I know that I said you couldn’t have that anymore, but that was mostly a scare tactic to make you realize what it means that you let him go. So what if you should’ve followed him? You also probably should’ve invested in some big company, but neither of us did that, and that’s the reason why neither of us are millionaires. That’s okay, lots of people aren’t millionaires. Most people aren’t millionaires.”

“I’m not asking to be a millionaire, Mikes. I’m asking to have enough money to actually survive. And I’m asking for Frank. That’s it.”

“I know, but Frank’s a lottery that you’ve just got to hope you’re going to win, but your odds are a lot higher than anyone else in the world. And yeah, I know your financial status is looking drab, and as soon as you get a job, you’ll be able to pay for things, but until then, I’m not going to let you drown and you know that. I don’t want you to think of me helping you as charity, but wherever you need it, you know I am here, and you know I will always help you.”

“It’s still charity,” Gerard mumbles.

“Well so what? Who cares? I’m your brother, and I love you, and sometimes you’re an idiot, but you’re still the best person I know. I will always think that, and if you need money, screw social conventions, I’m here for you. And if Frank decides he doesn’t want you in the end, I’ll be your shoulder to cry on. I see you as this amazing person, this artistic genius who’s down on his luck, but ultimately the kindest, most talented dude I know. If Frank doesn’t see that in you, and he doesn’t want you just because you made a few mistakes, than fuck him. If he doesn’t want you for who you are then you’re better than him anyway. Never forget that I’m on your side in everything, Gee. I am and will always be here to give you a hand if you need it.”

“It didn’t seem like that when you kept taking Frank’s side of things.”

“Gerard, you know I wouldn’t have been pushing you and Frank together if I didn’t honestly, truly believe that you two would be good for each other. I really do think that Frank will make your life a little better. It’s not that I think you need someone, and it’s not that I think you can’t be happy without someone, I just think that having someone there with you, who will love you and be nice to you and be there for you, I think that could make it easier for you to allow yourself to be happy. I don’t think you are in anyway incomplete without him, but I do think you two could be really good together, and that’s the fact of things.”

“I... sometimes I hate that you’re my brother because I’m the older one. I’m supposed to be the wise one, but you’re like, fucking Confucius.”

“Does this mean you’re going to talk to Frank?”

“I said you were wise, I didn’t say I feel any better,” Gerard sighs, moping down into his stool. 

“Well at least you can accept me for the wise man I am,” Mikey says, not sounding all that happy. Gerard just sits, puts his head in his hands and tries not to cry.

He wants everything to go away. He wants to take a break from his life and just give himself room to breathe. He hasn’t had that in so long. He’s been worried about this or that, and he’s been especially anxious around Frank these last couple of days, but at the same time, he felt a little happier. Felt a little brighter with Frank back in his life. It’s been so long since high school. So long since their old rivalry. So long since they made the mistake to become enemies. So much time has passed and he’s let it fester all this time, and it’s enough. It’s been long enough now, and he knows that.

But he’s still so terrified. What if Gerard really did ruin everything? What if all hope is lost between him and Frank? He didn’t do anything and it’s _because_ of the fact that he didn’t do anything that his shot may have been lost.

When Gerard thinks this, he finally does cry. And he doesn’t fucking care about keeping up his appearances anymore. He just hurts and he knows things aren’t going to get any better right now, so he just cries. He thinks, and part of him hopes, maybe somewhere not too far away, Frank might be crying for him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that didn't seem as whiny as I felt like it was when I was writing it. I just needed to get some of my own thoughts out.


	26. Ice Cream Will Fix It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard leaves a very depressing voice mail.

Gerard’s not sure how many days he’s actually spent in his bed. He’s pretty sure it has to be more than a week because he’s got a really annoying neck beard thing and stubble, because he hasn’t touched a razor in a while. 

He hasn’t felt the need to get out of bed though. He knows that there’s literally no chance of him ever getting a job when he’s this messed up and depressed. No one in their right mind would hire him, so he’s decided not to put any effort to waste in trying to find a job at the moment. He’s got to get over this slump before he can even think about a career.

Gerard’s eaten mainly what Mikey force feeds him. Mostly soup from the bread shop a couple blocks from his building. Also quite a few granola bars. That’s about it though. 

He’s also made a habit of rejecting any phone calls that anyone tries to make. Every single time he hears his ringtone, he jumps up so fast that you’d think he’s on a spring, but as soon as Gerard checks the caller ID, he slumps back to his original position and mopes at an even higher rate as he had before. With every phone call that comes in with someone on the other end who isn’t Frank, he gets more and more sad about his life. It’s pretty much ruining him. 

Gerard groans, reaches over to his night stand for his phone, and he almost lets it fall to the ground, but manages to catch it before it does. He has to pick his face up out of his pillow to look at it though and when his eyes find the screen he has to squint at how bright it is. The screen is blurry for a couple of seconds as he blinks his eyes rapidly, before having to rub some of the drowsiness out of them. He always gets insanely sleepy when he’s depressed about things. The annoying thing is that the more he sleeps, the more awful he feels and the more tired it makes him. It’s a vicious cycle of Gerard piling dirt on top of his own grave.

Gerard checks the date, does quick math and groans when he realizes that Frank’s birthday is only nine days away. He’s not sure how the days have passed him so quickly, but he knows that it’s almost past the date of the contract. 

The contract has been the foremost thing on Gerard’s mind besides Frank for the last week. He’s been thinking a lot about that contract, and what it means that they’re almost past the deadline. Some part of him is terrified of the fact that he’s so royally screwed everything up, and it’s all going to feel infinitely worse in just over a week. He has nine more days before depressed turns into whatever is worse than that, and it sounds miserable. He’s miserable as it is, he is not at all excited to see what comes next.

Gerard messes around looking through his contacts for a couple of minutes before he lands on the one he’s been trying to keep himself from calling. Unsuccessful in this endeavor, Gerard props himself on his elbow which puts a strain on his neck, but he doesn’t’ care. He puts the phone to his ear and listens to the bland ringing in his ear. It rings once, twice, three times, with no answer.

Finally he hears the familiar voice message which he could recite verbatim by now, followed by the beep.

“Hey Frank, it’s me again. I think this is, like, the twentieth or something message, and I know you’re not going to listen to this, because you probably haven’t listened to any of these, but, on the off chance that you are there I just want you to call me back or pickup your phone next time. I know that’s too much to ask, and I’m being really pushy, but I just want to talk? I want to talk about what you said, and what it means... because like, I think it’s important that we talk things through. You left before I could even respond, and that’s my fault, not yours. I’ve been thinking about that night a lot though, and I should have followed you. I know I should have, and I’ve been beating myself up over it, because, I just, I fucking should’ve! I should’ve followed you even if there was a fucking hurricane outside, because, the thing is, I think I’m in love with you too, but I just wasn’t sure of my feelings when you said it. It all happened so fast, and it was, like, I don’t know. It was stupid. You were just saying all these things that it took me too long to process and I was such a bitch to you, because I kept calling _you_ a bitch, when we both know that, in the end, you did what was right. Like, if you’re not in love with someone, you shouldn’t marry them, because then you’re hurting them less in the long run. I get that now when I didn’t the first time I thought about it. But, I mean, I do love you and... and who am I kidding, you’re not there. You’re not listening to this, I’m basically just talking to myself. Why am I still bothering to leave you messages? 

“Just, Frank, I need you to know that I’m about a million percent sure I’m in love with you, and my life is eating me up because I fucked it up between us. This is just so stupid, because, you are my high school enemy. I hated you so much, and here I am sadder than I’ve ever been because you won’t return my calls. It doesn’t make sense, and I know it doesn’t, but no one ever made the claim that love was easy, did they? So I’m sorry for wasting the battery on your phone, because it’s a shitty thing to do, but you’ve probably just turned the phone off completely because you’re sick of me calling, and I guess I don’t blame you for that, but I just want to talk things through. That’s all. I just want you to hear it from me, in real time, that I’m in love with you. Sorry for everything, and, on the off-chance that you do hear this and you’re just angrily shaking your head and gritting your teeth at the sound of my voice, I want you to know that, whatever you do, if you decide not to let me back into your life, which I wouldn’t blame you for, just know that I hope you have a nice life anyway. So yeah, have a nice life, and bye. Also, sorry for the fact that I’ve left basically the same message over a dozen times, and sorry in advance for a dozen more to come.”

Gerard sighs before putting the phone down and hanging up. He’s getting kind of sick of this leaving messages thing. He knows Frank’s not going to call back, but he’s running into that dilemma of hoping too hard again.

The more he hopes, the harder it is to accept that Frank is never going to answer his phone calls. The more he hopes, the easier it becomes to pretend that things are going to be alright, but it makes for this painfully unpleasant cold realization every thirty minutes that his efforts are pointless. Frank is not going to call him back. This is a fact. He is not going to call back, and he will never call back. That realization is one he still refuses to face head on, so he keeps calling. He keeps hoping, and he keeps dying on the inside.

The phone rings beside him and Gerard jumps up, looks at the caller ID, and his heart falls as always. He seriously thought it might be Frank. Again.

It’s his mom. Gerard really doesn’t want to talk to her. Technically, this is all her fault. If she hadn’t insisted that he spend time with Frank than he never would have realized that he might be slightly extremely in love with him, and he never would’ve pissed Frank off and he wouldn’t be sitting in his bed right now dreaming about making pancakes on a Sunday morning with Frank.

Gerard can’t stop thinking about every little thing that Frank does. He keeps thinking about that one face he makes where he looks off into the distance, purses his lips and squints one eye like he’s thinking about something really hard. He doesn’t know why he even noticed that face in the first place, but it was so adorable in a weird way. That big honest grin he gets when someone starts talking about something he loves. The look he’d had in his eyes the last time Gerard saw him like a wounded puppy. How could Gerard have just left him go when he looked like that? He looked so innocent and hurt, how did Gerard just let him leave? He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forgive himself for that.

He won’t forgive himself for a lot of things. He’s not sure what at all has happened recently. He’s not certain what the feelings he has now are, or where they came from. Gerard’s not sure if he’s had these feelings for Frank for a long time and they resurfaced after seeing him, or if Gerard truly did happen to start falling in love with him over the course of a couple days. It’s probably a combination of both. Gerard’s always been pretty oblivious of his own thoughts until they slap him in the face repeatedly. That’s how most of his life tends to go. He doesn’t pay any attention, and then, out of nowhere, his life is turned upside down. 

Gerard’s pulled out of a reverie by the sound of Mikey at the door. He knows it’s Mikey because he’s the only other one person has a key.

“Gee?” Mikey calls. Gerard neglects answering because he knows that Mikey knows precisely where he is. He’s only left this spot for one reason and that’s to pee. His bed sheets are starting to smell like him which isn’t a great smell because he hasn’t showered in a couple of days. He rationalizes this because he hasn’t actually done anything, so he hasn’t really accumulated any dirt or sweat, because all he has done is lie here. He’s listened to every single album he owns at least twice. It’s not helping any. Billy Corgan can only provide so much peace to his restless mind. 

Gerard’s also been very torn on what type of music is better when he feels this shitty. The problem is that sad music makes him sad, and nothing really changes in his feelings, but happy, bubbly music makes him sad because he doesn’t feel that way, he’s sad. And then there’s angry music which just makes him feel hurt and it makes him think about how angry Frank is, and it’s just not an easy thing to do.

He also hates himself for being this torn up over a boy. He cannot believe that he is lying in his bed buried in blankets just because of a _boy_. Sure he’s a cute boy, but that’s all he is. He’s just a boy. There are more important things. Gerard can’t be this sad based on nothing but Frank being angry at him. And this is Frank, a guy who has always and will eternally be angry at him. It’s true that Gerard always feels guilty whenever anyone is angry with him, but never this guilty. He usually just feels kind of crummy, but this here, this is not crummy. This is far worse than that.

His lungs feel like he’s underwater every time he tries to breathe. Every time he stops crying and has a moment of peace, he loses it again when he remembers that everything still hurts and nothing has changed. There’s such a finality in everything he feels and with every moment that he realizes how much it hurts. The way his soul and heart feel weighted down is like he’s been anchored in place where he lies in his bed. Gerard’s sick of not being able to control the way his life is going, and he’s sick of the grief, the guilt, and all of the pain it’s causing him. He’s just sick of everything.

“Gee,” Mikey calls again, and Gerard hears him creeping nearer, so he buries his head a little further into the blankets, even though there’s really no hope in hiding, as he is a giant lump in an otherwise unoccupied bed. Frank was here only a week ago. He was lying only an inch from where Gerard is now. Gerard smacks that thought out of his head as soon as he has it.

“Hey,” Mikey says, peaking into his room. “So I googled what you’re supposed to do when you have a broken heart, and the most popular cure that people suggested was ice cream. I think most of the tips were for ladies on HBO shows, but I still think ice cream isn’t a bad idea. Maybe you need a Star Wars marathon too.”

“I don’t want any of those things,” Gerard groans.

“Well I got you ice cream anyway,” Mikey says holding up a small container and a spoon. 

“You are the sarcastic best friend that every chick flick has,” Gerard groans, “You know that character, right? The one that everyone knows is prettier than the lead actress but for some reason isn’t the one who gets the guy in the end. Jesus fuck, my life is a romantic comedy starring Katherine Heigl.”

“Well, but in all of those movies she was in, she got the guy in the end. James Marsden’s a good looking dude, you could do worse.”

“I don’t want him!” Gerard groans.

“I was using that as a metaphor!” Mikey says, “I thought that was the point. Like, if you’re Katherine Heigl then you get the guy in the end and that would be Frank, because he’s the counterpart. Right? Am I lost? Did I even get the right movie?”

“You’re such a dumbass,” Gerard groans, “gimme the ice cream.”

He holds his hands out and Mikey walks over and hands it to Gerard, probably having expected Gerard to say something along those lines in the first place.

“I am totally a mind reader.”

“Mikey, everyone likes ice cream,” Gerard says, scolding.

“Yeah, but I can also sense that you’re thinking about watching Star Wars right now,” Mikey says.

“Yeah, but when don’t I want to watch Star Wars?” Gerard says, taking the lid off of the ice cream, and snatching the spoon from Mikey’s hand. Maybe it is a cliché but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with binging on ice cream when it feels like his heart is burning a hole through his chest. 

“Should I go put on episode five?”

“No, if we’re going to marathon Star Wars, we’re going to do it right,” Gerard says, “We’re going to pretend the first three don’t exist and watch four through six.”

“Alright,” Mikey says, rolling his eyes,” I have work tomorrow, but fuck it. I’ve got like seven vacation days to use up by the end of the year anyway. I might as well spend the time helping you since this is mostly my fault anyways.”

“It _is_ mostly your fault. You’re a jerk, and I hate you,” Gerard says.

“Yeah, I figured,” Mikey says, shaking his head. So are you going to get up? Like, have you stood up at all today? And when was the last time you took a shower. You smell like something died in your hair. And you really don’t grow facial hair well so that sad impersonation of a man old enough to have stubble is making you look like a kid who drew marker on his face. Basically, you look like you’ve been living out of a gas station for a week.”

“Wha... I thought this was meant to be a pep talk!” Gerard says, burrowing even further into his pillow.

“It is, but you need a little tough love, and Gerard, you smell like a shoe. I mean, I love you bro, I do, and I will support you through whatever, but you smell hella rank.”

“But I want to eat ice cream,” Gerard says, “I don’t have enough energy to move or shower or, like, cry myself to sleep. Can I just stay here for a while? Like maybe for forever?”

Mikey looks at Gerard with a look in his eye that you never want to see on his face, and it almost scares Gerard out of his socks, but he is not wearing socks.

“Okay, I’m miserable, could you maybe not give me the look like you’re preparing to kill my first born?”

“You are going to get the fuck up, and I am going to put the fucking ice cream in the fucking freezer while you take a fucking shower, because I swear to fucking god, smelly fucking socks guy who lives across the fucking hall smells better than you,” Mikey says in an attempt to break the world record for the usage of the word ‘fucking’ in a sentence.

“You’re so mean, can you not tell that I am dying in my own disparity here?”

“Yes I see that, and later I’ll let you write all about it on your old Myspace page, but right now, you’re going to shower, and then we’re going to watch Star Wars and you’re going to annoy me with dumb facts about the movie while you mope in your own melancholy,” Mikey says, swiftly grabbing the carton of ice cream from him which forces Gerard to make a weird whimpering sound.

“I have an alternative proposition,” Gerard says, “how about you give that back and leave me be.”

“Not going to happen. Do you want me to put my foot down?” Mikey says, crossing his arms. Gerard suddenly realizes that resisting isn’t going to help him if he is murdered by his brother. So he decides to get up, mainly because he’s not entirely sure that Mikey isn’t related to Medusa, and that look in his eyes could definitely kill.

“Alright fine,” Gerard says, reluctantly rolling himself off of the bed. He knows he looks stupid, but he doesn’t really have the effort to try to get up any other way. He almost falls onto the floor, but he stops himself, and when he looks up he sees Mikey looking at him like he’s some sort of slug, and Gerard really doesn’t want to try to picture what he looks like. He probably looks like that one Peanut that is always followed by his own personal dirt cloud.

“Good,” Mikey says firmly. 

Gerard slouches, but pulls himself out of the sheets anyway and trudges out of the room, feeling Mikey’s eyes follow behind him, carving a hole in the back of his head. Mikey may have a weird way of getting things gone, but it can never be said that his techniques are ineffective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately there's only a few more chapters left of this story which sucks for all of us, I think there's probably less than five chapters left. But, on the plus side I already have an idea for my next story.


	27. The Penultimate Penultimate Penultimate Chapter (Or the chapter before the chapter before the chapter before the last chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters left.

“Oh fuck,” Gerard says.

“What is it now?”

“I just got my eviction notice,” Gerard replies, slamming his front door behind him and sighing. “Oh fuck. Fucking motherfucking fuck.”

“Saying it in different ways does not change the fact that you have an eviction notice,” Mikey says. “How much do you owe, and when is it due?”

“I’m not going to just let you pay my rent for me,” Gerard says, shaking his head.

“Well I’m not going to let you just lose your apartment,” Mikey says, “and I sure as hell don’t want you living with me. You’re gross. Plus I can’t have company over with you there, and I sure as hell am not interested in hearing you and Frank when the two of you finally get together.”

“Would you stop it with that?” Gerard asks, “I told you, I’m moving past this. I’m just going to forget about Frank.”

“Gerard, forgetting about Frank would be like trying to forget the English language. You only speak English. That is your only language because you almost failed French for four years of high school. All you speak is English. So, you forgetting English would be impossible. The same can be said about you forgetting Frank.”

“Frank is not a language.”

“He might as well be,” Mikey says, “Listen, dude, you love him. I know that, you know that, Frank knows that, my coworkers certainly know that, there is literally no one in the world who does not know that. It’s kind of like the sun. Everyone knows the sun exists, because, look up, there it is. It’s right there. That’s the sun. The same can be said about your love of Frank. You love him.”

“Mikey, it’s eight at night. The sun isn’t even in the sky.”

“So? Does the sun just get scared away or something? Is it hiding in a little corner of the galaxy because the moon spooked it? No! The sun is still there, it’s still there, it’s just not visible for another couple of hours. It’s on the other side of the world, but it’s still there. Your love for Frank is still there. It may have been dormant for a couple of years, but you figured it out now, and there’s no denying that. You love him.”

Gerard shakes his head, “I don’t want to think about him.”

“That may be true, you may not _want_ to think about him, but now that you know you love him, you cannot ever forget that.”

“I just need some time to get over it.”

“He is not a hurdle, Gerard, this is not a relay race. You cannot just ‘get over it.’ If anything, you need to get under it. And by ‘it’ I mean him. And by-”

“I don’t need specifics!” Gerard shouts, stopping him, and throwing his pile of mail onto the kitchen counter. He looks at the little piece of paper that’s surprisingly empty looking considering how huge it is. His eviction notice looks like any other sheet of paper does. It’s white, it’s got very little information on it besides the bolded print that specifies when Gerard has to be gone. He’s got until the eleventh of November, which seems like years away, but it’s not. It’s his two weeks’ notice, and if he doesn’t pay his rent before that day, he really will be evicted for good. That gives him fourteen days to come up with almost a thousand dollars as an unemployed man with one of the blankest résumé’s the world has ever seen. Only three days until Halloween and Frank’s birthday. Honestly, the sound of being evicted is horrific, but not nearly as much as the terror he feels in knowing that Frank’s birthday is only three days away.

He can’t believe he’s actually managed to get himself into this much boiling water. This is not how he saw adulthood when he was a little kid. He can’t believe he has to deal with things like this. He thought that being adult would mean he’d be seeing rated R movies all the time, eating McDonalds for every meal of the day, and making out with supermodels. That was always the dream. He can live without the supermodels, he’s okay without them, but he really does want to watch Rated R movies and eat McDonalds. If you can’t have a giant bag of fries while watching people being brutally murdered than what is the point of adulthood? Taxes? Gerard never signed up for this!

“So, I’m going to take care of this then,” Mikey says jumping over the couch and snatching the paper that Gerard’s trying not to obsess over at the moment. He knows it’ll only make him more upset if he rereads it, but he is going to be homeless in two weeks so it’s important for him to stay on top of this.

“No, you’re not. I’m not going to let you-”

“You don’t have a choice in the matter,” Mikey says, “I’m going to cover you for the month, got that?” 

Gerard rolls his eyes, huffs, and tries to pretend he’s not extremely grateful. He hates that he needs his little brother to pay for him. He’s supposed to be the one that takes care of Mikey, he’s the big brother, he’s supposed to be the responsible one! Gerard has never in his life been the responsible one, but he knows that that’s how it’s meant to work. Traditionally, Gerard’s supposed to look after Mikey, but nothing about him has ever been traditional.

“You’re not going to give me a choice?” Gerard asks.

“Nope,” Mikey says, popping the ‘p’ sharply.

“So what’s the catch?” Gerard asks, knowing that there’s no way that Mikey would just let him off that easily.

“You’re going to look for a job, first of all,” Mikey says, “I’m not saying that you’re not allowed time to mope, but you’re allowance for exclusively moping and doing nothing else is over. Now you’re going to have to manage moping as well as job hunting. You’ve been given two weeks where you did nothing, and that’s fine, but now, that’s over. You hear me?”

“Yes, I get it,” Gerard groans, not liking the idea of having to job hunt again. He’s had so many job interviews the last three years, it’s insane. He’s not good at getting a job, and none of the jobs that he’s interviewed for were ones he was all that interested in, and it’s really hard to get a job in this economy anyway. Gerard just wishes he could travel back in time to when all you had to do to get a job was walk up to someone and ask. Then again he probably wouldn’t want to go back to that era because of how fucked up the world was. Plus, a gay man in the fifties is a disastrous combination. 

“The second thing you have to do is try talking to Frank,” Mikey says.

“I’ve tried, Mikes. I’ve tried everything! Literally! I’ve left him at least two dozen voicemails, and I’ve tried texting him. I went to his house. Did you know that? I went over there, and I asked him to buzz me in, but he didn’t, so I snuck in when someone else opened the door and when I got up there he pretended he wasn’t home.”

“Maybe he _wasn’t_ home,” Mikey says.

“He was! I swear it,” Gerard says, “I heard the TV and then I knocked and the TV was muted. I know he must’ve looked in the peephole, saw me and ignored me. That’s got to be what happened. Why else would the TV stop on its own?”

Mikey scrunches up his face, and rolls his eyes, “I don’t know. You might be right, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up on you two.”

“I know,” Gerard says, “you’re our biggest fan.”

“I know you were made for each other,” Mikey says, “and there’s no way you can convince me otherwise.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Because you believe it to!” Mikey says, the look on his face like he just caught all 150 Pokémon.

“I never said that,” Gerard says, “I’m just sick of arguing with you.”

“Oh sure,” Mikey says skeptically. “I’ll be right back, but you can contemplate your love of Frank while I’m gone.”

“Where are you going?” 

“Someone’s gotta pay your rent,” Mikey says, like it’s obvious.

“Oh... right,” Gerard nods.

“You can look for jobs while I’m gone,” Mikey says.

“Or I could hit myself in the face with a baseball bat,” Gerard says.

“You don’t own a baseball bat,” Mikey says, which is true.

“I do own a yardstick though. I could hit myself with that. Or I could impale myself. We all know which would be more fun out of those three options. Find a place where my creativity and love for life will be progressively sucked out of me like a vampire drinks blood, or take myself out of the misery of having to find a job completely.”

“You’re such a cynic,” Mikey says, getting to the door.

“Thank you. And, I’m only going to say this once so listen closely, thank you for helping me out. If you ever try to baby me again though, I will put your dick in a jar.”

“That’s a strange threat,” Mikey says, pushing the door open.

“I’ve been practicing,” Gerard says, “talking to Frank is like a quick fire shootout. You gotta have your insults prepared beforehand.”

“Is that how you two manage to make them so creative?” Mikey asks, one foot out the door. Gerard can smell the socks from across the hall even when standing a few yards away from the door.

“Of course.”

“Huh, you two are fucking weird,” Mikey says, “be back in a minute.”

Gerard lets him go, while he sorts through the rest of his mail. No one ever sends him mail though. All he has is spam and a bill. He would rather throw the bill away and keep the coupon for a free pizza with the purchase of another pizza of equal or greater value, but he has no money for the first pizza, _or_ the bill. Gerard is basically screwed when anyone brings up his financial status or lack thereof.

Gerard only looks up when he hears a buzzing coming from the other side of the room. He sees that it’s Mikey’s phone vibrating against the table, and he’s extremely tempted to go peak at it, but then he reminds himself that Mikey is literally paying for his rent right now, so he should probably let this one go. 

He’s sick of the sound of people getting texts. Mainly because he never gets them. No one ever talks to him, that’s still true, and has always been true. Things don’t change. He may not be as miserable as he was a couple weeks ago, but he still feels shitty. He’s just a high functioning depressed person. Every time he thinks about Frank though, he’s on the edge of receding back into his shell of sadness and never coming out. All the bad things that can happen in his life are happening all at once and he just wants a vacation.

Gerard just wants to take a break from everything, get some peace and quiet, maybe have all of his memories wiped, and some undisturbed fucking sleep. He also wants financial stability. That’s all he wants. He just wants financial stability. And Frank. He wants Frank too. He’s not asking for much here.

Except all he’s getting is one brick stacked on another. One bad thing turns into two bad things. Two turns into three, and so on. He’s got someone building a brick wall in front of all of his prospects. Every time he kicks one down, two more are added. What Gerard really needs is a bulldozer. But he can’t risk tearing down all the walls in his life, because then he loses the little stability that they provide.

Basically, Gerard’s screwed.

Gerard looks up again a few minutes later when he hears the door opening again. Mikey’s been in and out of this apartment a lot lately. He’s been in more than out though. Apparently he doesn’t trust Gerard on his own. Probably not a bad idea. Gerard is infamous for finding ways to break the unbreakable. He’s good at making the worst possible situation worse. He’s good at fucking up. He’s incredibly irresponsible. He shouldn’t be allowed to be an adult. Or a person.

“Your Super really hates you, you know,” Mikey says.

“I’ve always gotten that impression. I think he hates most people though. Like anything with a pulse is immediately put on his _list_.”

“Or maybe it’s because of that stupid-ass hair,” Mikey says.

“Asshole,” Gerard mutters, “oh and by the way, someone texted you.”

“What?” Mikey asks, “You didn’t look at my-”

“No. What kind of a man do you take me for?”

“Trust me, you do not want me to answer that.”

“Bitch,” Gerard scoffs, turning away. He’s in the middle of trying to rip the pizza coupon out of the ad, because there’s no way in hell he’s throwing that away, when Mikey makes an excited monkey-like sound. It’s a sound that is reserved for documentaries about forest life, and has never been heard anywhere else, ever.

“Gerard,” Mikey says and he turns around to see Mikey with the biggest smile on his face.

“What?” Gerard questions warily, because he does not trust that look on anyone’s face, least of all Mikey’s.

Mikey looks back at him, and grins even wider, “I think I know what we’re going to do this Halloween.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was somewhat of a filler chapter so that I could make sure that this fic would have thirty chapters for the ultimate meta fic.


	28. Somewhat Depressing Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, only two chapters left.

“You’re not actually serious are you?” Gerard asks. He tugs away from Mikey as he’s pulled off of the train reluctantly. Mikey has given him literally no real reason for anything in the past day. He’s been pulling Gerard along with him for twenty seven years, but he’s never gotten used to it. Mikey is probably the only thing linking Gerard with humanity still. Without him, Gerard would be a hermit with a large collection of birds. Maybe stamps. Or both. Birds and stamps. 

“Like, we’re not actually doing this,” Gerard continues when Mikey keeps tugging. Really, if there was any doubt in Gerard’s mind about where they’re going, he would have voiced it fifty minutes ago. He’s kind of curious though. He wants to know what’s going on in Mikey’s freaky little head. In all actuality, it’s more like Mikey’s slightly below average sized head.

“You’re not that dumb,” Mikey says, still pulling him.

“No, I mean I’ve figured out where we’re going, but _why_ are we going there is the biggest question,” Gerard says.

“Because,” Mikey says.

“Oh god, you’re just like he who must not be named. Because is not a reason, Mikey.”

“Voldemort?”

“Yes Voldemort, of course I was talking about Voldemort,” Gerard says sarcastically.

“Gerard, you cannot go around saying things like ‘he who must not be named’ and expect people not to make Harry Potter jokes, got that? This is the 21st century. If you want to go somewhere that people don’t know what Harry Potter is, you will have to use a time machine.”

Gerard groans, and sighs when Mikey amazingly is able to hail a cab in under five seconds. Maybe it’s his death glare. No one else Gerard has ever met is able to get a taxi that quickly. Now obviously it’s true that Gerard only really knows like six people, but Mikey is astonishingly talented in getting what he wants. It’s probably that murderous vibe he gives off. Gerard’s still not quite sure that his brother isn’t Norman Bates.

“Wow, so we’re just going to barge in unannounced then?” Gerard asks, “Is this some sort of plot? What are we actually doing?”

“We’re getting in a cab, Gerard,” Mikey says to him, as if Gerard just grew a third head, and Gerard groans loudly. He thinks about running away for a moment before realizing that Mikey has longer legs. And he’s superhuman. 

“But what is going to happen when we arrive at our destination?”

“We are going to get out of the cab and pay the kind sir for his troubles,” Mikey replies when Gerard sits down next to him. He makes a loud sighing sound and tries to find an infallible way to ask a question that won’t result in Mikey answering with something to keep him in a circle of confusion.

“Okay, Mikey, why on earth did you decide to drag me out of bed at two in the afternoon on a Monday to go to our old house in the middle of shitville New Jersey?”

“That is not the name of this town,” Mikey says, after telling the cabbie the address. For some reason it smells like burnt rubber and fish in the cab, and Gerard would really like to pretend he’s not curious of why that is.

“I will punch you in the face, mikeyway, don’t think I won’t.”

“We need to pick up something,” he replies.

“Something that we can’t get in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world?” Gerard asks, blinking at him.

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well alright then, that’s all the information I need, don’t bother telling me what it is that we’re getting,” Gerard says as sarcastically as he can manage.

“Okay, I won’t then,” Mikey replies, and that’s when he turns his head and starts to look out the window.

Gerard is suddenly stuck in a situation where he really wants to smack Mikey in the face, and he also really wants to shove Mikey out of the cab. There’s really nothing else on his brain other than that.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Frank does it?” Gerard asks.

“I’m not answering any more questions.”

“You haven’t answered a single one of my fucking questions yet!”

“I’ve answered all of them,” Mikey replies, “just because you didn’t like the answers does not mean that the questions were not asked.”

“You’re such a prick,” Gerard sighs, and he slouches in his seat, turning to look out the other window because he’s pretty much _done_ with Mikey.

“Call me whatever you want, if I turn up missing, you’ll be the first person they look at,” Mikey says with a shrug.

“But I’ll do a real good job at hiding your body. That is, if you’ll even have a body after I’m done with you.”

“You sick bastard. You’re just a wannabe villain on an episode of Criminal Minds.”

“Go ahead, Mikey, you can kill me if you want. Just remember that the same applies to you,” Gerard says.

“Oh you silly boy. Do you honestly think I’m a rookie when it comes to disposing of bodies?” he asks, and Gerard looks around at him to see him smiling lightly, but it’s not a real smile. It’s the kind of smile you actually would expect to find on an episode of Criminal Minds. Mikey is seriously just one offhanded comment away from becoming a serial killer, but Gerard doesn’t mind it so much. He kind of feels bad for Mikey’s coworkers who should live in constant fear that they’re working with a sociopath, but that’s not Gerard’s problem. If he ever were to really become a mass murderer, Gerard’s the safest he could possibly be, because Mikey wouldn’t hurt him. Gerard would be much safer actually. 

Gerard’s memorized the drive to the house, because he did live there for, like, twenty years. Now granted, he was a small child for much of that time, but he’s got enough sense to at least know when they’re on the same street as the one he grew up on. 

“Oh god,” Gerard groans, looking around, feeling like a kid. “I’ve been avoiding mom’s calls for over two weeks, you know. She’s gonna be so pissed at me, and here we are just dropping in unannounced.”

“No, she’s not in,” Mikey says.

“What? How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I’m her favorite kid,” Mikey shrugs, and Gerard gives him an unamused face accompanied by a shove of the elbow into his ribs. “Or maybe I called her and told her to leave because I figured out a way for you to get a boyfriend, but it would require her to be away for an hour. She thought it sounded like a good trade off. So the house is empty, and as long as I hold up my end of the deal, which is to say, as long as you and Frank are in a relationship by the end of the week, then everything will be great.”

“Well it looks like you’re not going to be able to hold up your end of the deal, because I am not going to-”

“You want to test me Gerard?” Mikey asks. “I will not take no for an answer. You’re miserable. Suck it up, breathe it in. Breathe your miserable air and stop lying through your teeth. We both know you’re in love with Frank. Stop denying it. I know a way to make sure everything will turn out alright. I’m about ninety percent certain this plan will work, okay? Just do as I say, and as long as you listen to me, you’ll have the love of your life in less than a week.”

“Okay, fine. I’m listening, what do you plan on doing?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Mikey says quickly, as he hops out of the taxi.

Five minutes later, Gerard’s sitting on the steps in front of the house after refusing to actually go in. He’s not sure why, he’s just afraid that it’s going to remind him of his childhood and the last thing he needs to think about is Frank. He looks at the house next door for a good couple of minutes remembering all the times he’s spent over there. Even though he knows it’s not true, Gerard feels as though he spent more time in that house than the one behind him.

He remembers all the times that he’d played in Frank’s room. For some reason they played hide and seek a lot. Like, Gerard remembers at least a hundred different games, and he always hid in the same fucking place. His small brain really misunderstood the ‘hide’ part of hide and seek. If it was Frank’s house, he always hid in the guy’s closet. Some sort of teenage prophecy or something probably. 

Gerard just feels his entire childhood hitting him in the stomach like some sort of bat. He remembers kissing Frank under the mistletoe and how they had made a big scene of it, pretending that it was the grosses thing that had ever happened. He remembers the time that they had to draw a picture of their best friend in art class and Gerard’s drawing of Frank looked like a potato with toothpicks sticking out of it. He remembers the time that he and Frank played tag with the kid who lived across the street and they teamed up on him which caused him to never want to play with them again. He remembers all the times he and Frank used to sit on one of their lawns and eat animal crackers and drink juice boxes. For some reason Frank always wanted the camels and Gerard always wanted the elephant animal crackers so they traded.

He remembers when they used to draw chalk on the sidewalk and play hopscotch and they never gave a shit when one of the older girls told them that ‘hopscotch was for girls’. He remembers when they would pretend to play chess in the living room at Gerard’s house. Neither of them knew how to play, though, so they were just moving the pieces around as if they were playing checkers. He remembers having a water gun fight with Frank and they got mad at each other for all of three minutes before they resolved everything when they realized how stupid it was of them to get angry. That was over a little water, and yet they were too immature to settle that _other_ argument.

Gerard hates how stupid it is. He hates how his whole life is like a parallel universe to the one he really should’ve lived. He just wishes his life were the movie 13 Going on 30. He wants to wake up in his basement to find that the past twenty five years have all been a dream. He wants to leave that room and go kiss Frank and have this part of his life just stop existing. He wants it all to go away. Gerard just wants to be with Frank. He wants that, and if he could have that, he’d let the past years go. He’s say ‘fuck it’ and be with Frank, and everything would be okay again. That’s really all that he wants. Just a second chance, or a chance to start over. He knows he can’t have those years back, but still, he can’t help but to think about them. 

What if they hadn’t been torn apart? What if Gerard made it home after school on the day where everything went wrong, and they’d had a rational conversation about it? Sure they were only six, but they might’ve been able to sit down and think things through. What if they’d gotten preachy Savannah expelled? What if they only got closer after fourth grade? What if they still sat next to each other on the school bus to and from school, and on field trips? When they took that trip to the science museum in fourth grade, what if they’d played with all the exhibits together? What if they had been on the same team in fifth grade when they had to play dodge ball in gym class? What if Gerard hadn’t made it a goal to hit Frank in the head with as many dodge balls as he could?

What if they had each other on the first day of sixth grade at a brand new school with an almost entirely new group of people? What if they were sitting in Frank’s bedroom after school, when Gerard accidentally blurted out that he was gay, and Frank had helped him get through that crisis in his life? Maybe instead of bottling it up for three years, and being ashamed of himself in the mirror, Gerard would have actually gotten someone to talk to, Frank, someone who understood him completely.

What if Frank had snuck into Gerard’s bedroom sometime in the middle of the summer when they were supposed to be asleep? What if they’d been talking on his bed, listening to the sound of the crickets from the open window, sitting in front of a fan because the air conditioning always gave out during the hotter months? What if Gerard had just gotten the nerve up to kiss him, and Frank kissed him back? What if their song was some dumbass pop song that was playing when they first kiss? Maybe it was Paranoid Android, or even fucking Wannabe by the Spice Girls.

What if they snuck out of school in ninth grade to hide in the bathroom and talk to each other? What if they’d made a huge deal of making plans to be alone so they could lose their virginities but they ended up chickening out and it only brought them closer?

What if they’d gotten to go to prom together, but snuck out because they got bored and went to an ice cream store instead. Maybe they danced alone to that stupid fucking Spice Girls song on Gerard’s Walkman. 

What if they graduated as that stupid clingy couple that plan to stay in touch throughout college? What if they’d been voted cutest couple in their class superlatives, or what if they’d been bullied to all hell, but didn’t give a shit about it, because they had each other?

What if they went to different colleges and went through four years of hell because they never got to see each other. What if they would spend hours at night talking on the phone until one or both of their college roommates started to yell at them. What if they would find dumb things at gift shops and think of each other, and buy those stupid things and send them, because they wanted to make sure that the other knows they still care? 

What if they moved in together after college and supported each other for the first couple years until one of them had enough money to buy the other a ring, and they wouldn’t have had enough for a big wedding so they had it in front of their two houses. 

Most of all, what if they’d _made_ it? If they really made it. They could’ve been together for the rest of their lives, Gerard bringing home flowers if Frank had a bad day, and Frank watching all of TNG with him even though he likes Captain Kirk better. 

Gerard looks around him at the space between their houses. It’s just a patch of grass. That’s all that’s there. Except, there’s never been a wedding on that grass. There’s never been a fourteen year old Frank tip toeing through that small space and rattling on Gerard’s window. There’s never been a sixteen year old Gerard on the sidewalk where the school bus would come, asking Frank if you can see the hickey he’d given him the night before. There’s never been any of those things.

Instead, there’s a thirty year old man with eyes much older than that, sitting on the steps to his house looking like someone he knows just died. In a way, that’s what it does feel like. Gerard hangs his head and whimpers, feeling like someone’s tunneling through his insides, wishing that he could just take everything back.

He looks up when he hears the sound of the door closing and Mikey starting to hop down the steps. Gerard looks up, pulling himself to his feet at his arrival.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Gerard asks.

“Yep,” Mikey nods. Gerard just sighs and starts to head down the steps, leaving Mikey to stare at him, not moving. Gerard realizes that he’s not following when he doesn’t hear Mikey’s feet against the pavement.

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me what it is I needed to pick up?” Mikey asks holding up the generic paper bag he must’ve grabbed from the kitchen to house whatever it is they came here for.

“Would you tell me if I asked?” 

“No,” Mikey admits.

“Then why should I ask in the first place?”

Mikey shrugs, but walks quickly to catch up with Gerard. “Why do you looks so sad all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard lies, looking back at their two houses solemnly, his eyes focusing on the spot where there will never be a wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want this fic to be over soon, I've grown attached to it, but I would be so disappointed if it didn't have thirty chapters.


	29. Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard and Frank are both stupid.

“I cannot believe you’re making me do this,” Gerard groans, as he’s pulled by the arm. He feels like a dog on a leash, except the weird thing is that he’s the one being pulled on. Mikey seems to think he can drag Gerard every which way and he won’t fight back. He should, because it’s unbelievable how much of a pushover he can be, but still, he doesn’t. He trusts Mikey but he doesn’t _really_ trust him. He trusts Mikey not to push him off a bridge or stab him in the back, but he does not trust Mikey to listen to a word he says. ‘Mikey’ and ‘listening’ are two words that are very rarely spoken in the same sentence.

“You want to, we both know it,” Mikey replies.

“I don’t want to be here,” he says, as he’s hurried up the steps in the apartment he hasn’t been inside of in what feels like forever. He’s only ever even been here a couple of times and yet somehow, it’s familiar.

“Yeah you do,” Mikey says.

“No, I really really don’t!” Gerard says. “Do you know what day it is? Do you know?”

“I do know what day it is thank you for asking. My phone is set up to automatically tell me the dates of the most important holidays. Like I need a fucking reminder though. Of course I know when Christmas is. I know what day these things are, but my phone thinks I’m a dumbass.”

“It’s not Christmas though, it’s a different day,” Gerard says when they reach the landing at the top of the stairs.

“Yes, I know. It’s October 31st. Halloween. Frank’s birthday.”

“Exactly! And you know who lives in this building? You know what tenant here is someone I’m trying to avoid at all cost. You told me we were going to a Halloween party!”

“We are going to a Halloween party!” Mikey groans.

“You did not mention that the party was at Frank’s apartment,” Gerard hisses. 

“You didn’t ask.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to ask! How am I supposed to know to ask something if you don’t ask me to ask you?”

“Okay so first of all, I have no idea what you just said, and second of all, it’s too late to turn back.”

“No it is not! All I have to do is turn around and then there’s nothing you can do to make me come back.”

“You’re right,” Mikey halts, and turns to him, “there is no way I can stop you. So go ahead. Walk away. Walk away right now, and don’t come back here ever again. I’m not going to even try to stop you, so just go.”

“But I-” Gerard starts before realizing that Mikey is an evil genius. He knows Gerard doesn’t want to leave. He knows that with certainty. Of course Gerard wants to be here! Where else would he want to be? It’s Halloween. It’s Frank’s birthday. All he wants is to be here, and here is where he is. Mikey, the son of a bitch, is a mind reader. He knows that Gerard is not going to leave, especially not when he’s so close to Frank, and Gerard is astounded that he didn’t see this coming. He narrows his eyes at Mikey who grins back because he knows that Gerard sees right through him.

“So?”

“Alright fine,” Gerard replies, shaking his head. “I hate you.”

“You always have.”

“Ugh,” Gerard says as Mikey drags him the last bit of the hallway that he’d been lagging as slowly down as he could. Mikey was trying to pull him faster, but Gerard is stalling.

“Alright, so I need you to stand here,” Mikey says, putting his arms on either of Gerard’s shoulders and positioning him behind the wall adjacent to Frank’s room. There’s a turn in the hallway right next to Frank’s door so if you stand to the left of his door and behind that bend, you’re completely invisible from the apartment.

“Why am I standing here?” Gerard asks.

“Because,” Mikey says, and then he takes the bag he’s holding, the decorative kind that you give people for a celebration, and shoves it into Gerard’s hand. Gerard assumes that whatever is in there is what Mikey had forced him to come pick up the other day. Gerard’s still not entirely certain as to why he even needed to come with Mikey, but he assumes Mikey’s reasoning was of a sadistic nature. Mikey just really wants Gerard to ask him what’s in the bag and what his plan is. He wants to have Gerard groveling for answers, but he’s not going to get that.

“Stay there, be quiet, and take my lead, got that?” Mikey says, looking at Gerard expectantly. Gerard nods and sighs, slouching his position and leaning against the wall.

Gerard feels his heart beat pick up as Mikey knocks on the door. There’s a few minutes of silence after that, Mikey looks at him with a prideful expression, and then Gerard feels his erratic heartbeat practically stop completely when he hears the door being opened.

“Hey Mikey,” Frank’s voice says, “You’re early.”

“Yep, thought it would be best to be here first,” Mikey shrugs nonchalantly while Gerard tries to remember how breathing works. He’s pretty sure it’s supposed to be an automatic reflex, but suddenly, he can’t remember the last time he was able to inhale.

“So nice of you to dress up,” Frank replies sarcastically, and Gerard can tell he gives Mikey a onceover to see that no fuck was given to prepare a costume. Now, Gerard’s not wearing a costume either, but Mikey had insisted that it wasn’t required. Gerard was wary, and even more still at this point.

“I didn’t feel like it,” Mikey shrugs, and Gerard rolls his eyes. “But, on the plus side, I did get you a present.”

Gerard looks down at the bag in his hand, ready to hold it out for Mikey. 

“Oh really? Well I guess I can forgive the lack of costume then, I like presents,” Frank says. Mikey smiles lightly, and his eyes dart over to Gerard. He holds out the bag slightly so that Mikey can take it from him. He’s still not sure why he’s here, or why he’s hiding, but he’s just got to go with it.

He’s got the bag held out in front of him when Mikey, instead of grabbing the bag from his hand, grabs Gerard’s actual hand instead and pulls him into view. Gerard almost trips as he’s tugged, and he turns to look at Frank when he balances himself.

The look on Frank’s face is not a happy one. He goes from excited glee, to extreme anger within a fraction of a second. Gerard is suddenly feeling like whatever this is, it’s not a good idea.

“I told you not to bring Gerard!” Frank says.

“Yes, you did,” Mikey says. “Your text told me I was forbidden from bringing Gerard, but you said nothing about anyone in costume.”

“All he’s got is a lame ass T-shirt,” Frank says.

“Well that’s because he’s dressed as an unemployed man,” Mikey says, “and he’s my plus one for the evening.”

“I didn’t even say you could have a plus one!” Frank cries, glaring at Gerard like he’s already planning on how he’s going to dispose of Gerard’s body. 

“Yes well, he’s my gift to you,” Mikey says, and he reaches into his pocket before grabbing a bow, one of the bigger ones that you put on gifts, and he slaps it onto Gerard’s head. The top is sticky, and Gerard tries to pull it out of his hair a moment after it’s there.

“I’m not property, Mikes,” Gerard says, picking the bow off and wondering how on earth Mikey managed to stick it in his pocket without flattening the top. 

“Shut up,” Mikey says, crossing his arms like he’s waiting for them to do something.

“So why are you here then? Trying to make me forgive him? I poured my heart out to Gerard, and what did he say? Nothing. He just stood there opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish! So if you’re here to get me to forgive him or something then you’re out of luck.”

“Gerard,” Mikey says bitingly, “it’s his birthday, say happy birthday.”

“What? I don’t want to.”

“I will make you if I have to,” Mikey warns.

Gerard looks at Mikey for a few seconds, feeling like he’s using his superpowers to strangle him, when he just sighs and decides it’s not worth it. Fighting Mikey isn’t worth all the money in the world, so he should just give it up now.

“Fine. Happy birthday, Frank.”

“Happy trash day, Gerard,” Frank replies and Gerard narrows his eyes at him, unable to fathom how much he wants to slap the guy in the face and then rip all of his clothes off.

“Frank, take that back. It’s Halloween, say happy Halloween or something.”

“Why?” Frank asks.

“You wanna test me?”

“Happy Halloween,” Frank says stubbornly.

“Adequate,” Mikey shrugs. “Okay, now, my guess is that asking you two to kiss each other right now isn’t going to work?”

“Absolutely not!” Gerard snaps.

“Nope, didn’t think so. Got to work my way up to that, but I can do this. I’ve planned for everything.”

“It’s not going to happen,” Frank says, his face emotionless, but his eyebrows furrowing together as he glowers at Gerard. 

“Stop that,” Mikey says, flicking Frank in the temple out of nowhere, and Frank jumps like he just got flicked in the temple by a walking toothpick.

“What was that for?” Frank asks, backing up, and rubbing at the spot on his forehead.

“You were glaring, I don’t like glaring. This is your future husband, okay? You can’t look at him like you’re trying to blow up his brain with your mind! You two are already going to have a weird enough relationship, let’s not make it one full of creepy staring and a rubber room.”

“What the hell is wrong with you,” Frank shakes his head.

“My brother and his soulmate are buffoons,” Mikey explains.

Frank doesn’t say anything, he just agitates his feet and looks at the wall behind Gerard for a moment. His eyes stray slightly to meet Gerard’s and they blink at each other, refusing to make any real eye contact that isn’t broken a few seconds later. Mikey looks from one of them to the other without saying anything for at least a few minutes.

Finally, looking fed up, Mikey groans and says, “Well fucking talk to each other!”

“I don’t have anything to say to him,” Frank states.

“Neither do I.”

“Ugh, you’re so dumb. I do hope you realize that my next strategy is duct taping you two together, so unless you’re really eager to figure out how to fuck whilst being stuck back to back, then I’d recommend you go at it now.”

“I hate you so much, Mikey,” Gerard rolls his eyes.

“Well,” Mikey says, “I’m going to give you two a survey, alright? Answer honestly or I’ll cut off your nipple with a cheese grater.”

“Ow,” Frank whispers, taking a step back.

“Precisely. So, say yes, no, nod, or shake your head after each question,” Mikey says, “Firstly, is your name, in fact, Gerard Way?”

“Yes?” Gerard says, looking at Mikey confusedly.

“And you are, in fact, Frank Iero?”

Frank nods, looking bored. He leans against the frame of his door, crossing his arms.

“Alright, next question. Is it true that the two of you grew up next to each other?” Mikey asks, and they both nod, Frank rolling his eyes. “Okay, and is it also true that you were childhood best friends up until you were about six?”

“Is this going to take long, because I have things I could be-”

“So there’s your kitchen over there, I bet the cheese graters can be found in the cabinet by the sink, am I correct?” Mikey asks, and Frank looks nervous for a moment before deciding to shut up. Honestly, when it comes to Mikey, you never know just how far he’s actually willing to go for his cause. Frank may have every right to be terrified of him. 

“Okay, now. Is it also true that the reason you two stopped being friends is because you thought each other had pulled mean practical jokes on each other? Right, and is it true that neither of you actually did pull said practical jokes, and were actually framed by a little demon child?”

“Well technically we don’t know that for sure,” Gerard says.

“Did I say you could speak out of turn?” Mikey asks, and Gerard shakes his head. “No, I didn’t think so. Next question, is it also true that you have both spent the last however many years under the illusion that the other hated your guts?”

Gerard nods, wondering where Mikey is going with this. He’s pretty sure that they do actually hate each other’s guts, but the fact that they also might be head over heels in love with each other keeps getting in the way of that. 

Mikey nods, like he’s pleased with their answers so far, and continues, “Great, now here come the questions where I really will hurt you if you lie. Frank, these are for you, is it true that you had a picture of Gerard in your wallet?”

Frank shrugs, looking down at the floor, or rather, his shoes, and he doesn’t make any distinct gesture of yes or no. Mikey keeps looking at him critically before Frank mumbles something.

“What was that?”

“Yeah, okay? That’s true,” Frank says begrudgingly.

“Okay, and is it also true that you confessed to loving Gerard just a few weeks ago?”

Frank frowns, and Gerard can tell, even though he can barely see Frank’s face because of how his head is hung downward. He’s pretty good at reading his face though, he’s memorized it pretty well by now. Gerard panics at that realization slightly because he cannot believe that he knows Frank’s face that well, and he hates himself a little bit for it. He also feels kind of proud that he’s so good at reading him, and he tries to drown that feeling.

“Frank,” Mikey says, using a voice that Gerard has only ever heard his own mother use. Mikey’s going to start middle naming Frank soon if he doesn’t hear what he wants to, and that is never a good thing to hear from someone who holds power over you.

“Yes!” Frank says, looking irritated and uncomfortable, “yes, alright. I did.”

“Hmm, okay,” Mikey replies, and then he turns to Gerard, “And Gerard, I have to ask you some questions now. Is it true that you have a playlist on your phone right now that plays only sad songs about losing someone, featuring the horrific styling’s of James Blunt on the song ‘Goodbye, My Lover’ as well as the admittedly quite catchy, don’t even deny it, song ‘The Scientist’ by Coldplay, and, to top it all off, you called that playlist ‘Frank.’”

“Did you... did you snoop through my phone?”

“Of course,” Mikey scoffs, looking disappointed in the fact that Gerard didn’t expect that. Frank snorts at him, not even trying to pretend he doesn’t find that amusing, and Gerard turns a reddish color, similar to the color of his hair.

“Dude,” Frank says, grinning, “James Blunt?”

“I’ve had a bad couple of days, okay?”

“Yeah, but let’s be fair, how much of that can be accredited to the fact that you’ve been listening to James fucking Blunt?”

“You’re such a twat,” Gerard replies, putting his own head down.

Mikey makes a face and nods like he agrees with him, “true. That doesn’t change that you’ve been listening to dumbass love songs about Frank.”

“What point are you trying to make, Mikey?” Gerard fumes.

“Well, here’s my final and most important question, and it is for both of you,” he says, taking a breath, “don’t you think it’s really motherfucking stupid to be apart from someone you’re madly in love with just because you’re letting your dumbass pride get in the way? If you love someone, and they love you back, wouldn’t the best idea be for you to, I don’t know, fucking _be_ together?”

“That’s a matter of interpretation,” Gerard says meekly.

“It really isn’t.”

Gerard sighs, looking over at Frank who’s grin has vanished and been replaced with the exact expression Gerard is sure that he has. He looks so confused, and broken, and scared, and nervous, and terrified, and hopeful, and so many other expressions all wrapped into one unbelievably depressed looking puppy dog face. Gerard swears that in this moment, he falls in love with Frank a million times over, and he doesn’t know why. He just feels all the hope in his body being pushed off a cliff, and somehow, it’s kind of freeing. Refreshing almost, like he’s finally breathing real air.

“Oh, one last thing,” Mikey says, “Gerard got you a birthday present, Frank.”

“I didn’t,” Gerard says, and he looks down, realizing that he had completely forgotten about the bag in his hand for a few minutes. It’s as if the weight comes back to him in an instant, like whatever is inside it disappeared and reappeared. It’s not all that heavy, can’t even be a pound, but it’s still heavier than air.

“Why is this important?” Frank asks.

“It just is,” Mikey says, and he jerks his head in Frank’s direction while looking at Gerard, indicating that he’s supposed to hand it over.

“I didn’t get it... it’s Mikey’s meddling,” Gerard clarifies, shaking his head, looking from Mikey and then at Frank, their eyes meeting, and sucking the air from Gerard’s lungs. He holds Frank’s eye for a long moment, and just when he thinks he’s about to combust, Frank drops his gaze, probably having felt the same fear of looking at him as Gerard had felt.

“Well give it to him, meathead,” Mikey says expectantly.

Gerard, curious beyond all belief as to what’s in the bag he’s holding, sighs, and reaches his hand out to Frank. Frank does his best to not touch Gerard, and takes it from his hand. 

“What did you even do, Mikey,” Frank shakes his head, pulling something not very large, about the size of a piece of paper out of the bag. It’s wrapped so the mystery is still yet to be solved, but it’s pretty thin, about an inch wide, and Gerard can’t make heads or tails of what the hell it might be. 

Mikey doesn’t respond, just watches intently, as Frank rips the paper on one side and pulls whatever is inside out, but all Gerard sees is the back of it. He has to look at it for a couple of seconds before he realizes that it’s the back of a picture frame.

“Oh,” Frank says, looking really surprised as he looks at the front, and Gerard can’t even stand it anymore. He just wants to know, so he pulls against the side of the frame that’s not in Frank’s hand to turn it in his direction.

Gerard’s eyes are butchered for a moment when he realizes that the words on the piece of paper in front of him are written in comic sans. Then he starts to grasp what he’s looking at.

It’s the contract. _The_ contract. The infamous contract.

Gerard looks down and he sees his own five year old handwriting that’s honestly illegible, but he makes out a G and what he thinks is supposed to be a W, so he recognizes that it’s probably meant to be his signature. If Gerard’s handwriting was bad, Frank’s could be considered illegal in twelve countries, because there’s no way he can make any sense of that mess. 

Gerard’s eyes scan it with surprise, as he evaluates every little piece of the contract that he can’t believe is in front of him right now. On the side, by their signatures, there’s a red stamp that they probably put there to make it look official. The ink is all blotchy but it looks like it’s supposed to be some sort of reindeer in a really suggestive position that they wouldn’t have noticed was suggestive when they were that young. The part that sticks out the most to Gerard is the clause at the top that says ‘If, by the time when we’re both thirty and we both remain unwed, we’ll marry each other.’

The whole thing looks extremely well preserved considering it’s about as old as Mikey, and that’s probably because they’d gotten it laminated when they were finished. The frame must be something that one of their mothers got because they thought it was cute. Gerard’s almost, for lack of a better word, star struck by this one piece of paper.

It feels unreal, the emotion Gerard has. He can’t believe this one stupid ass piece of computer paper that they signed is still intact. He can’t believe all the things it means to them either. For one thing, without it, Gerard wouldn’t be standing here right now. He would not be standing in front of Frank Iero’s apartment, twenty five years after this was typed, feeling like someone smashed his heart with a sledgehammer. He wouldn’t be in contact with Frank at all, because Frank’s mother never would have found this piece of crap in her house, so she never would’ve called Gerard’s mother, and Gerard would never have been guilt tripped by his mother into seeing Frank. If he’d never went to Frank’s apartment however, then he never would have had his feelings for the guy reawakened and they never would have slept with each other or had all these unresolved feelings. Gerard wouldn’t have ever had the epiphany that he’s madly in love with Frank, and there’s nothing he can do to change that. All because of this stupid, dumb, cheesy, unofficial, yellowing, naïve contract.

“I just want you two to realize how stupid this all is,” Mikey says seriously, breaking the cloudiness of Gerard’s thoughts. “You two love each other. You always have. Somehow, you always knew, and that’s why you never really could ever stop remembering each other. You used to be best friends. You adored each other, for god’s sake, you were going to get married! But now, you’re here. Now you’re standing here, and nothing’s going to change if you don’t let it. You’re a barely scraping by, two years sober, unemployed artist, and a guitar playing, unbelievably lonely, runaway groom, and you fucking love each other despite the fact that both of you are complete and utter imbeciles.”

Gerard lets the end of the picture frame he’s holding slip from his fingers and Frank changes his grip on it, looking unwaveringly at Gerard. Gerard looks back, ignoring the feeling he’d had a moment ago where he wasn’t capable of looking at Frank without feeling nervous. It’s too much, and he knows it is, looking straight at Frank is way too much, but he can’t look anywhere else.

He loves that man so much that it’s not even quantifiable. It’s not even within the realm of comprehensible. Gerard loves Frank enough to fill a thousand pages.

“This is so stupid,” Frank declares finally.

“So stupid,” Gerard agrees.

“You’re stupid,” Frank adds, still looking at him.

“So are you,” Gerard responds again. 

“Glad we could agree on something,” Frank says, and that’s it. That’s all there is. That’s all he says.

Frank doesn’t look anywhere else but into Gerard’s eyes when he shoves the picture frame into Mikey’s hands, and then that’s all there really is. Gerard’s brain is too muddled to even begin phrasing it, because there’s no prelude. There’s no hesitancy, and there’s not a single second where either of them thinks ‘maybe I should think through all the possibilities before I do anything.’ That moment does not exist, because all that Frank has to do is free his hand, before he’s swinging his arms around the back of Gerard’s neck and they’re lips meet for what feels like the first time. 

Gerard thinks he’s supposed to be caught off guard, but he also feels like somewhere inside of him, he and Frank are perfectly in sync. He knows precisely what Frank’s thought process is before he even so much as moves, and that’s how he knows to put his hands on his sides the minute Frank gets in his space.

Gerard takes every single kiss he’s ever had with anyone way too seriously. He always over analyzes things and tries to come up with the right word to describe it, every time. Always, without fail, he’s trying to come up with what it feels like, how it makes him feel, and sometimes he tries being critical, but not now. This is just this. That’s all it is.

Saying that makes it sound like it’s unexciting, but that would be the worst possible word you could use to describe what it is. It’s anything but unexciting. It’s the most emotions Gerard has ever had all at once and that’s what makes it so indescribable. Every single cell in Gerard’s entire body is screaming, and probably celebrating, lighting fireworks and dancing, but he can’t focus on it, because there’s something. There’s something and he doesn’t know what it is.

It’s unspoken, this something, and it’s there, definitively, he knows that for certain. And it’s not something that belongs to him, or that he has any power over controlling. It’s like a thought, but it’s not a thought. It’s more of an understanding, and he knows that it’s an understanding that is perfectly clear in Frank’s head too. He can’t read minds, he knows he can’t, but Gerard knows right now that he is thinking the exact same thing as Frank. Whatever this something is, it’s telling him that he can’t go back. This something is making it explicitly clear that this is his commitment, his signature in a way, that he’s here. It’s kind of like another contract, except it’s not really even there, because there’s no official, or in their case, unofficial document, but that’s kind of what makes it so official. It’s the fact that there’s nothing actually there which makes it so binding.

Gerard knows, and he knows as well as he knows his own name, that this is going to be for real. This is really him, and this is really Frank, and it’s not two misguided dudes hooking up to try to relieve their feelings for each other. It’s a true, honest to god, promise that he is going to really get to finally understand what it’s like to be with Frank.

Gerard is so full of the most emotions he’s ever had. So full of different feelings. And each and every single emotion is one of joy. 

“I did it!” Mikey starts screaming way too loudly, “I fucking did it! Holy fuck! Oh they’re going to put my name in record books, this is the biggest achievement of mankind!”

Gerard groans, and even though his body is screaming at him not to, he turns his head to look at Mikey, which forces him to break this kiss that he would really do anything to just hold for the rest of his life. 

“You’re related to that mess,” Frank reminds him as Mikey starts jumping around like a small child being told that he’s getting a new PlayStation for Christmas.

“What a dumbass,” Gerard says.

“It’s genetic,” Frank replies, and Gerard looks back at him to make an annoyed face at his words, because it’s still so ingrained in him. That’s never going to change.

“I hate you so much,” Gerard states.

“I hate you more,” Frank spits back. He looks at Gerard, over-analyzing him, and his eyes flicker down to look at Gerard’s mouth before he makes a weak sound. “Fuck. I love you.”

“I love you more,” Gerard counteracts.

“Well,” Frank starts, looking almost blank of an expression for a moment, “it only took us twenty five years.”

“Guess that just means we’ve got a lot of wasted time to make up for,” Gerard says.

“Oh hell yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://i1291.photobucket.com/albums/b545/Sexy_Bread_Tin/Smaller%20WWBT_zpsq85iemi4.png)  
>    
>  Before I say anything else, I want to draw your attention to this lovely fanart by the equally lovely [kittycatriona](http://kittycatriona.tumblr.com/post/113824662122/so-pumped-for-the-rest-of-helenamayhathaways). The last chapter is going to be the epilogue, which makes this, in a way, the last chapter. I hope it has been everything you hoped for, and thank you for making it this far!


	30. Epilogue: Return of Shitdick and Fuckhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hate is just the most extreme version of love.”

Gerard looks back into his own eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He blinks back at him, looking as pale and nervous as Gerard feels. All he can do is feel his whole body shaking, and he’s not exactly sure what it’s from.

On the one hand, he’s not really nervous. Nothing is really _changing_ , when he thinks about it analytically. His life isn’t going to be that much different. He’ll still be Gerard, Frank will still be Frank, everyone will still be who they were before today. Except, in less than an hour, everything is going to completely change.

The world will still spin the same way, Gerard will still use too many similes, Frank will still say ‘rad’ too much, and they’re still going to be that weird gay couple who have a gnome sticker on the door to their apartment because they can’t have a proper garden gnome. 

It’s just that, soon, Gerard’s going to be someone’s husband. He’s going to be someone’s spouse. He’s going to have to start checking the box that says married when he fills out contact information. He won’t be calling Frank his ‘boyfriend’ or his ‘fiancé’ or his ‘arch enemy’ or ‘this twat who sleeps in my bed’ anymore. Well, he might still call Frank that last one, but he’ll also be married to that twat who sleeps in his bed. 

Gerard watches himself breathing in the mirror, because that’s the only way he’s able to slow down his heart rate. He looks at the way his hair is too messy, and the way it’s too violent a color for his age, but he doesn’t care. He looks extremely askew, and that’s also how he feels. He watches himself for a few seconds, just trying to calm down when he sees Mikey in the mirror entering the room with someone else. Gerard looks for a second to see it’s Franks friend Brendon.

“You look scared,” Mikey says.

“Yeah, well, I’ve never done this before,” Gerard says.

“And if all goes to plan, you won’t be doing it again,” Mikey says.

“Don’t say that! That makes me a million times more terrified,” Gerard replies, horrified at the prospect of what his future brings. He’s looking forward to it, sure he is, he’s looking forward to pancakes on Sunday mornings with Frank, and grocery shopping with their kids, and going to see bad action movies, and being the first person Frank sees every morning, and congratulating him when he plays a good show, and all the other amazing things that Gerard always considered dull until he started dating Frank. 

“Gerard, the point of life is to be terrified. If you’re not constantly terrified, you’re doing something wrong.”

“Everything you say sounds like you read it off of a fortune cookie,” Gerard groans.

“You’re annoying,” Mikey rolls his eyes, “just, calm yourself down. You’ll do fine. It’s not that big a thing when you think about it. Weddings are just a formality, and an excuse to obsess over every little thing that could and probably won’t go wrong. Whether it’s at a courthouse, or you do a big grand thing, what matters is that you’re marrying Frank.”

“There you go again, you fortune cookie spewing man.”

“Oh, shut up,” Mikey rolls his eyes.

“He’s right,” Brendon says.

“Why are you telling me to shut up? This is all your fault you know,” Gerard says, “all of it. This is your fault!”

“And I’m still very proud of myself. I should literally just be given a Nobel Prize now or something, because no one in the world could ever possibly know how convoluted you and Frank’s relationship is, but here you are, I totally got you two together. It’s all me. You should be thanking me every day of your life.”

“You know, if you told me a year ago that the guy Frank described as being ‘the antichrist with a face like a broken washing machine’ would end up marrying him, I’d have had you admitted into a mental institution,” Brendon says.

“Hate is just the most extreme version of love,” Mikey says.

“Yeah, but usually when you’re looking for someone to settle down with, you don’t pick the guy who apparently used to put cow shit in your locker.”

“Dude, you should’ve seen them in high school. Gerard talked about Frank over dinner literally every night. All I heard every day was the exact same insult about how ugly Frank was, and how dumb Frank was, or about how rude Frank was. He never gave it up! Literally every day. Every fucking day for about twelve years.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Gerard demands.

“But the weird thing is the fact that Gerard still loved him! He hated Frank so much, but he was still gaga for the guy. I seriously remember the first time I realized he had the hots for Frank.”

“Oh, do tell,” Brendon says. 

“Oh man, we were out one night and I kept teasing the two of them, because it was funny. Like, seriously hilarious. Our mom really wanted Gerard to get married so she had me set him up with fucking _Frank_. I mostly went along with it because it was fucking funny. Because they hated each other so damn much, it was hilarious. I mean, I knew Frank had had a crush on Gerard in high school, that was never an overly big secret even though Frank denied it, but I didn’t actually think they liked each other. And then I saw them look at each other and it was like, oh fuck, well that makes my life harder because I’ve got to get them to realize it.”

“You’re like their creator in the sims or something. Without you, they’d never have actually done anything. You’re their god. You should totally write a book.”

“I’m thinking about a movie instead,” Mikey says, “I don’t know, I think a movie would be better. I can’t write for shit, but it’s a great love story, maybe we’ll get some big executive to pick it up, and I’ll hire Joss Whedon to write the script.”

“Could totally happen,” Brendon nods.

“Right? Gerard thinks I should be played by Michael Cera.”

“That’s because you should be,” Gerard states, trying to block out the sound of their voices. He’s really trying hard not to concentrate on the fact that this is the most important day of his life. He can’t get over the fact that he’s going to get married. To Frank. He’s marrying Frank. He’s going to be married to Frank fucking Iero. 

The guy who he played Go Fish with is going to be his husband. The guy who he kissed under the mistletoe is going to be married to him. The guy who everyone thought he was going to marry someday is the guy who he’s marrying. It’s not someday anymore though, it’s today. He’s going to be married to Frank today. In less than a few hours. It’s so soon, but it’s taken Gerard literally about twenty seven years to get here. He still has a hard time believing that he’s marrying his childhood best friend. His high school enemy. The guy in the band with all the tattoos and a soft spot for Doritos. The guy who forced them to stay in a hotel one night when they saw a spider in the living room. The guy who regularly says that he hates Gerard and then proceeds to make out with him. The guy who cried his eyes out when they watched Wreck it Ralph. Gerard’s going to marry him. 

Gerard almost forgets the conversation at hand when he hears Mikey’s voice breaking his momentary reverie. 

“I’m too good for him, maybe you could get that guy from Teen Wolf with the face,” Mikey suggests, looking happy with himself like he’s onto something that isn’t completely stupid.

“The face?”

Mikey nods, “Yeah. The one with the really nice face. I don’t know his name. It’s just a really good face.”

“You watch Teen Wolf? Actually, don’t answer that, I don’t even want to know. But here’s the most pressing question, who will play me?” Brendon asks, looking really concentrated all of a sudden.

“Kermit the Frog,” Gerard says.

“Asshole,” Brendon sighs, walking over to look out the window. Gerard watches him, he hasn’t actually looked out the window himself yet. He’s mostly just been sitting here moderately panicking, but mostly excited.

He knows what he’d see if he looked out the window. He’d see the space between Frank’s childhood house and his, the place where he never thought there would be a wedding. There is though, he’s going to marry Frank right here. Right where they spent their friendship together.

Gerard looks around the room. This is the same room that he and Frank played around in as kids. He hasn’t even been in this room for nearly ten years. Gerard’s mostly avoided this house whenever he could, he wouldn’t even stay overnight for Christmas when his mom asked. He doesn’t like his childhood bedroom. He only really likes his Star Wars sheets, because he’s a giant loser, and he likes the stacks of comics that he stores in the closet because Frank doesn’t like having more comics in the apartment than he does hairs on his head. He says things like, ‘no, Gerard, you’re using the hall closet for your comics, why do you need to use the one in our bedroom too?’ or ‘okay seriously, I know you like Batman, but you cannot put comic books in the medicine cabinet,’ or even ‘Gerard, why the fuck did I just find X-men underneath the sofa cushion?’

His bedroom still looks the way it did when he went to college. It still feels the same. If you look under his mattress you will still find his totally-not-a-diary journal that professes how much he wants to dangle Frank off the side of a building.

“How’s it look? Nothing’s on fire, right?” Gerard asks Brendon. 

“Only like, a couple of people are on fire,” Brendon shrugs.

“Ugh, don’t say that! I’m stressed out enough as it is, you’re only going to scare me even more!”

“I’m joking!” Brendon says, “Jeez. It’s fine, Gerard. What a beautiful wedding.”

“Yeah? No one’s on fire then? The florist cancelled at the last minute so we had to get peonies instead of lilies, do they look okay?” 

“Gerard, I don’t know a lily from an ear of corn,” Mikey says.

“I had a foreign neighbor one time, and I don’t actually remember where he was from, but he grew flowers and he used to ask people if they wanted some of his flowers, because he never had any place to put them, but his accent was really thick so one time he asked me if I wanted any peonies, but I did not hear peonies, I heard penis,” Brendon says.

“Thank you for that anecdote, Brendon,” Gerard says looking at him emphatically because he’s so irritating right now while Gerard is having a minor panic attack. 

“It’s fitting though. What better to have at a gay wedding then flowers that sound phallic?” Mikey says.

“Just, go away,” Gerard rolls his eyes, putting his head down into his arms, so that he doesn’t have the annoyance of the light streaming in from the window in his eyes.

“Rude,” Mikey replies, but he doesn’t argue. Brendon says nothing, but Gerard hears the sound of his footsteps following behind Mikey. Usually Gerard would have to fight for a lot longer to get Mikey to actually listen to him, but it was surprisingly easy this time. It’s probably because Mikey realizes that today is not his day, and he really should listen to Gerard. There are some days where it gets to be about Gerard, and Mikey respects that. Every other day, however, is bend over backwards for Mikey day. 

“Whoa hey, you almost hit me with a door,” Frank’s voice comes from the hall outside, and Gerard darts his head up to look at him.

“Well I didn’t know you were standing there, did I?” Mikey replies, and walks away. Gerard smiles as he sees Frank, who watches Mikey and Brendon as they walk down the hall before turning back and looking at him.

“You’re not supposed to see me before!” Gerard says.

“Uh, I think that’s the bride. I think you’re not supposed to see the bride before. And Gerard, I say this because I love you, you are gorgeous, and adorable, but you are not a bride.”

“I could be a bride if I wanted to be,” Gerard huffs when Frank walks in and closes the door behind him.

“Yes, you could, sure. And you’d be the most gorgeous bride there ever was,” Frank says, “but that’s not the case.”

“I still could be,” Gerard shrugs, slouching in his chair.

“You’re cute, but oh so stupid, and I love that about you.”

“Should you really be insulting me? I mean, really? Like, we’re going to be married in like two hours, do you really think that what I want to remember should be you calling me stupid?” Gerard asks, when Frank walks closer and sits on the edge of the bed next to his desk. 

“I don’t see why not,” Frank replies.

“Nervous?”

“Yeah, a little,” Frank confesses. 

“You’re not going to run away from _this_ wedding are you?”

“You’ve just gotta bring that up, don’t you?” Frank says, but he doesn’t look all that upset. “I’m not going anywhere, Gerard.”

Gerard smiles despite himself, and stands up so that he can sit next to Frank, putting his head on Frank’s shoulder.

“Mikey’s still going on about making our life story a movie.”

“Well as long as the actor who plays me is taller than the actual me then I’m on board.”

“Frank, every actor in the world is taller than you.”

“I’m not _that_ short,” Frank says, “I mean, I can still ride most things at amusement parks.”

“Sure you can.”

“You’re mean. I’ll show you, we’ll go to an amusement park someday, and I’ll ride every damn thing in the place, and since I proved you wrong, you will have to win me a prize. I want a giant teddy bear from you.”

“What a fantastic date idea,” Gerard says, “I’ve only seen that movie scene like thirty times.”

“Hey, Gerard, there’s a reason it’s cliché. It’s because it’s fun. I like watching movies but stopping halfway through to make out. I like candlelit dinners, even though neither of us can cook so we end up eating pizza. Hell, I liked that time we went ice skating. Cliché works for a very good reason, Gerard. Also, I am absolutely going to make out with you in the rain someday. I might get us a bowl of spaghetti too. It’ll happen, I’ll do it. I don’t care how cliché it is.”

“We’re going to have to do something about finding a beach to take a long walk on then,” Gerard says.

“This is what honeymoons are for,” Frank says.

“Aw, Frank, if you think that’s what we’re going to be doing on our honeymoon, then you’re very sadly mistaken.”

“Sometimes I feel like you only love me for my body,” Frank shakes his head, laughing.

“Not true. I like your credit card too,” Gerard looks up to get a glimpse of his face and snorts at the way he frowns. Frank looks at him, tries to pretend he’s not smiling. He’s always smiling. There’s never a moment where Gerard looks at him anymore and he’s not grinning. Gerard thinks that maybe it’s because of him that that’s the case. He doesn’t think there’s an honor higher than the one of knowing that he’s the one who makes Frank smile.

Gerard would do anything just to watch Frank grin. He’ll do anything to hear him laugh. He loves it. He loves being able to make Frank have an overwhelming emotion like that. He’s never paid any attention to how good he is at getting reactions out of people, but then there’s Frank. When Gerard jokes around, he doesn’t care who laughs, he doesn’t care how stupid he looks. With Frank though, his life is all about making sure he’s always the happiest that Gerard can conceivably make him. 

“I hate you,” Frank shakes his head.

“I know,” Gerard replies, beaming. 

“But I love you too,” Frank says, “shitdick.”

“And I love you, fuckhead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been fun. Thank you for reading (and look out for my next fic).


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